Excessive Handling
by POstable1231
Summary: Sequel to Bundle of Memories. When an unusual problem occurs in the DLO, Oliver must prove himself as section leader. Meanwhile, both couples face overwhelming challenges, personally and with each other, in their new circumstances. In the midst of chaos, the POstables stay true to their mission and set out to deliver a final message to its intended recipient.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This story is a sequel to _Bundle of Memories_ and picks up immediately following the POstables' dinner at the Mailbox Grille. I have a lot more planned for this story but thought some of you might enjoy reading this first scene now. Thanks in advance for your support!**

**_Disclaimer: The main characters belong to Martha Williamson/Hallmark Movies & Mysteries and are based on the Signed, Sealed, Delivered television movie series. Any resemblance of other characters that are introduced in this story to any living or deceased person are purely coincidental._**

* * *

Monday, June 20, 2022

The bright city lights of Denver were casting a soft glow into their vehicle, and as Oliver O'Toole shot a sideways glance at his wife, he could see her stifling a yawn. Upon leaving the Mailbox Grille, Shane was full of energetic chatter. Within the last couple of minutes, however, she had appeared to have lost her adrenaline rush and was already fighting to keep her eyelids open.

Oliver smiled slightly to himself and reached for Shane's hand. She offered it without hesitation and shook her head in an attempt to ward off her drowsiness.

"I thoroughly enjoyed our date night with the Dormans," Oliver declared.

"That was really special," Shane responded, squeezing his hand. "I think I'm still in shock. It all just feels so surreal."

"It certainly does," Oliver agreed, then added sincerely, "I am sorry you're feeling fatigued, sweetheart."

Shane gasped. "Did you slip a sleeping pill in my drink?" she asked in a mocking tone.

Oliver laughed heartily. "I will take the blame for your lethargic condition, but I assure you no drugs were involved."

Shane grinned. "I'm not blaming you. But you do get full credit."

"Well, I should hope so," he retorted, and they chuckled. "Would you prefer that I take you directly home?"

"Absolutely not, Oliver. I'm a little tired but I'll make it. I love supporting your dad in his sport, and I have never been so excited to deliver a package!"

The way that Shane lovingly addressed his father and her excitement warmed Oliver's heart.

"We could just...mail it," he replied in a teasing tone.

"No!" Shane laughed.

"Okay, okay. I concur." Oliver smiled broadly. Joe would certainly be overjoyed, and neither of them wanted to miss out on seeing his face when they broke the news to him.

A few minutes later, Oliver parked the car in front of a local bowling alley. They spotted Joe's truck in the lot and proceeded as planned. Oliver gave Shane a brief but loving kiss before rounding the front of the vehicle to open her door. He held out his hand and helped her out of the car, then they made their way to the bowling alley's entrance, her arm linked in his.

Oliver was relieved that the establishment was non-smoking, as he did not want Shane to inhale dangerous vapors. However, that meant that the half dozen patrons who wished to smoke were now standing outside the front door, causing puffs of cigarette smoke to infiltrate the air between the couple and the front door. As they came closer to the building, Oliver hesitated, momentarily considering leading them back to the vehicle.

"Come on, Oliver!" Shane tugged on his arm like a child who was excited for the next ride at the amusement park, yet Oliver was not feeling quite as adventurous in that moment. He knew, though, that if they were going to see his dad and arrive home at a decent hour, there didn't seem to be a better option.

Shane closed her lips together tightly and shielded her mouth and nose with her hand as they rushed through. Oliver pulled the door open and ushered her inside as quickly as possible, his hand on the small of her back.

"Of all the nerve," Oliver sputtered as they walked into the building.

Shane giggled at his overreaction. "You'll live."

"I am not concerned about _me_, Shane. Secondhand smoke is dangerous, and I don't want _you_ breathing it, _especially_ in your co—" Oliver stopped himself and glanced around.

"Oliver, will you please calm down? I didn't inhale any of that smoke. But even if I had, two seconds of breathing it can't possibly be life-threatening."

Shane secretly loved this protective side of Oliver—to a degree—but she knew he didn't need any encouragement in that department. The last twenty-four hours had proven that Oliver himself might just be her biggest challenge over the next several months.

"Oliver? Shane?"

The couple turned to find Joe standing a few feet away, looking at them questioningly.

"Is everything okay?"

"Hi Dad!" Shane exclaimed. "Yes, everything is fine."

"Are you sure? Oliver, you're looking a little uptight." Joe furrowed his brows in concern.

"I'm fine," Oliver spat out, not too convincingly.

"It seems he inhaled a bit of cigarette smoke on the way in. His lungs will clear shortly and he'll get over it." Shane rolled her eyes and Oliver glared at her, but he realized that a truthful explanation at this point would spoil their surprise.

Joe laughed. "Well, it's all clear in here. So what brings you two to this fine establishment?"

"Our purpose is twofold," Oliver stated. "We came to offer you our support during your league game, and we have a package to deliver."

"Here? To the bowling alley?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Yes," Oliver responded confidently.

"Norman and Rita are supposed to meet us here," Shane informed him. Just then, her phone dinged and she pulled it out of her purse to take a look. "Right on cue. Rita said they will be here in about five minutes or so."

"Do the four of you _always_ hand deliver packages together?" Joe inquired, chuckling.

"Not all of them," Oliver replied.

"Just the really special ones," Shane added.

"Huh. There must be an interesting story behind this package," Joe commented, eyeing the bundle Oliver held in his hands.

"It's my favorite, actually," Oliver said, winking at Shane, who grinned in return.

"Oh wow—now that says a lot. I can't wait to hear all about it. As a matter of fact, Bill and I just finished up a game and we still have the lanes on the end." He gestured to the far wall as Shane punched at her phone, anticipating Joe's suggestion. "Why don't you all get some shoes and bowling balls and join us in the next game?"

Shane's face lit up as she looked up from her phone, while Oliver began to look slightly uncomfortable. "Oooh, I'd love that!" she responded without hesitation.

"Great! Norman and Rita could bowl with Bill against the three of us," Joe suggested.

"That sounds fantastic! I'll let them know," Shane said, beginning a text to their colleagues.

"Uh—I'm not sure about this," Oliver interjected. Shane stopped and cut her eyes up at him curiously. "We were not intending to participate as bowlers," he continued, turning to address his father. "Are you not bowling your league game this evening?"

"Nope. The other team had too many players out tonight and had to forfeit. So, Bill and I decided to do a little open bowling."

"Ahh, I see. As intriguing as it sounds, it _is_ Monday night and we are expected to be in the office bright and early in the morning. I think it's best we get this package delivered and be on our way home."

"Oh, come on. Please, Oliver?" Shane flashed him a bright smile and pleading puppy-dog eyes.

It might have worked in the past, but Oliver had a little more to consider now, and bowling seemed to be a risky activity. He stood his ground.

"Shane, it's getting late," he declared assertively.

"Oliver, it's _eight-thirty_." Shane emphasized the time and glared at him with annoyance. What was his problem?

Joe looked on, perplexed, as his son and daughter-in-law began to bicker.

"Yes. And by the time we _finish_ the game, it could be _ten_-thirty or later. I could even be pushing midnight getting you home."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize that _I_ have a _curfew,_" Shane spouted.

"Shane, you nearly fell asleep on the way over here. You _need_—" Oliver halted, remembering that his father was hearing this whole discussion. Oliver turned and sheepishly looked at Joe.

"I'm going to let you two hash this out," Joe declared, holding up his hands in mock surrender and then pointing to his left. "I'll just be over there...stayin' in my lane."

"And we'll be there in a few, with our bowling shoes on," Shane assured him. Joe nodded with a smile and began heading toward his lane as Shane added, "I haven't bowled in a long time, though, so I might be a little rusty!"

Once Joe was out of range, Shane turned to find Oliver staring her down. "You're also a little delicate," he reminded her in a hushed tone, then added firmly, "and you're _not_ bowling."

Shane smiled sarcastically at her husband. His annoyance at the cigarette smoke was cute. Now he was just pushing her buttons, and she had almost had enough. She was a grown woman and would do just as she pleased—within reason, of course.

Spinning quickly on her heels, she approached the counter and requested bowling shoes in her size. Oliver followed her, frustrated but knowing full well that he needed to let this go, especially now that he had angered her. Although he didn't believe he was wrong for feeling the way he did, he mentally reprimanded himself for being harsh and searched for the words to apologize. Why couldn't he have simply expressed his concern without being so authoritative with her?

Without a word to one another, they put on their bowling shoes and headed for the bowling balls. Oliver grimaced as Shane lifted and tried a few out before finally settling on one. She didn't admit it to him, but Shane chose a lighter one than she wanted because she was already feeling a little guilty about upsetting Oliver. She considered obliging him and not bowling at all, but she had to set a precedent or she would lose her independence entirely for the next eight months. Once they were ready, Oliver silently insisted on carrying her bowling ball as well as his own, and she didn't attempt to argue with him on that matter.

Shane spoke up first as they made their way back to Joe. The last thing she wanted was for them to be at odds with each other when they officially shared the good news with Oliver's father.

"Oliver, I'm sorry."

They stopped just out of earshot from Joe and Oliver sighed. "Perhaps I'm the one who should apologize. I am sorry for my tone. I'm still...adjusting...to our new circumstances. However, I am not sorry for my intentions. I always feel a certain responsibility for you, Shane, but even more so now."

Oliver's innocent, boyish expression and openly honest words warmed her heart. Any bitterness that had remained melted away.

"Oh, Oliver." She bit her lip to keep from crying, then took a deep breath. "That's really very sweet. But I need you to trust me to make good decisions, too." Shane placed a hand on his arm, holding the package in her other hand.

Oliver sighed and nodded. "And you think...bowling...is a good decision?"

"Yes. It's perfectly safe. I googled it as soon as your father suggested we bowl with them." She raised her eyebrows and grinned proudly, holding her phone up to show him the search results. "See?"

Oliver wasn't entirely convinced, but he relaxed a little knowing that his wife had taken it seriously enough to at least do a little quick online research. "Google is not a doctor."

Shane laughed. "Fair point. But I promise you, I'll be careful." She narrowed her eyes at him and gave him a lopsided smile. "You know, you're going to make such a fantastic disciplinarian."

"And undoubtedly, you will be the one to teach our child how to bend all the rules," Oliver responded with a smirk.

Shane giggled as he leaned his upper body in to kiss her, arms still by his side, a bowling ball in each hand.

"So—are we bowling? Or do you two need some alone time?" Joe teased from a few feet away, and they broke their kiss.

"We're bowling," they replied in unison, with a chuckle, Shane's face turning slightly pink.

Joe grinned and began setting up their screens for scoring. As they waited for the Dormans, they chatted about their day, minus Oliver and Shane's highlights, as the couple was saving those for later. A couple of minutes later, Rita's familiar voice broke through their conversation.

"We're here!"

The O'Tooles turned to find the Dormans approaching. Bill was right behind them, a couple of beverages in hand. He greeted the O'Tooles and handed Joe a drink.

Norman looked down at Shane's bowling shoes then flashed a questioning look at her and Oliver. "So, uh...we're all bowling, huh?"

"Yes! Yes, we are, Norman."

"We already got our gear, but I wasn't sure if I should bowl," Rita stated, then caught herself. "Uh, I mean, because I'm a little _out of practice_." She awkwardly pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"Don't worry, Rita," Shane said, eyeing her friend confidently. "I am a little _out of practice_, too, but we can do this. I assure you there is _no harm_ in trying, as long as we're careful."

After a moment, understanding dawned on Rita's face. "Oh! Well, that's good to know." She chuckled nervously then looked to Norman. "I suppose we're bowling then."

"I suppose we are!" Norman repeated with a forced chuckle. His disapproval was evident to Shane and Oliver, while Bill and Joe were simply confused by the whole exchange.

"It's not exactly the most dangerous sport out there," Joe remarked.

"Just watch for flying bowling balls," Bill piped up, and the others laughed while Norman's eyes grew big. "It was a joke, Norm."

"Ahh," Norman replied, chuckling forcefully.

"And this is just for fun, so there's no pressure," Joe added.

"Right!" Shane agreed. "We have decided to make this interesting, though. We're facing off—the Haywith-Dormans team against the O'Tooles."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Bill said, and they all agreed.

"Yes! And you two can be our anchors. This will be fun!" Shane clapped her hands together in excitement.

A few minutes later, the teams were ready to begin. Shane bowled first, with Oliver handing the bowling ball to her at her starting position.

The others watched as the ball hit the pins perfectly and Shane earned a strike on her very first throw.

"Oh, my goodness!" Oliver exclaimed.

"Wow!" Joe chimed in. "A little rusty?" He shook his head and laughed.

"Ahhh...just beginner's luck, I guess." Nevertheless, Shane was beaming proudly.

"Luck is—" Oliver started.

"Don't you dare call me lazy, Mr. O'Toole." Shane placed her arm on his as she walked by, cocking her head at him, her face only a few inches from his. "Your competitive drive is really kicking in now, am I right?"

Oliver raised his eyebrows and lowered his voice. "I believe we are on the same team, Mrs. O'Toole?" He cleared his throat and turned his head a little, still feeling slightly uncomfortable flirting with his wife in front of family and friends in a public place.

"Always." Shane flashed him a sultry smile that made him wish they were at home.


	2. Chapter 2

"Come on, Rita!" Bill said. "Let's see what our girl can do."

"Okay, Daddy!" Rita approached the lane with excitement, Norman following Oliver's example and carrying Rita's ball to her starting position as well. Joe and Bill exchanged bewildered yet amused expressions at the men's behavior.

After visualizing a few different techniques, Rita finally turned sideways and tossed the ball down the lane with both hands. She managed to knock down two pins and almost appeared proud that she had left more pins standing. Norman commended her and then tried to explain the best, most scientific way to bowl successfully. She heeded his advice and did slightly better with the next throw, knocking down four more pins.

The men bowled after Shane and Rita, each of them scoring well—better than Rita but not with the success that Shane had had. When it was Shane's turn once again, Oliver followed her to the return and retrieved her ball before she could.

"Oliver, you don't have to keep doing this," Shane quietly assured him. "I can get the ball from the return myself."

"I know, but I don't mind delivering it to your address," Oliver informed her as they walked to the approach, then chuckled to himself, quite pleased with his pun.

Shane made a face as she took the bowling ball from him. "Well, you don't have to go that far. The house is a few miles away."

Oliver smiled, amused. "Shane, your address—in bowling—is your starting position." He gestured to where she stood.

"Oh! It sounded like you were confusing work with fun again," she teased with a giggle, and Oliver made a face.

He stepped away from the approach as she prepared to throw.

"I'm glad to see that you and Shane resolved your conflict," Joe remarked, as Shane's first throw traveled down the lane.

"Peace is essential," Oliver stated simply. "Especially in a marriage."

"That is true," Joe agreed. Oliver handed Shane the ball for her second throw and returned to where Joe stood. "And as an added bonus to peace, those conflict resolutions can lead to some pretty great make-up sessions." Joe grinned and slapped a hand on Oliver's shoulder. "But you are probably well aware of that by now."

Oliver shook his head and laughed. "Honestly, Dad, Shane and I haven't had too many disagreements in our marriage. But lately...just in the last couple of weeks...things have become rather challenging. We seem to be embarking upon unchartered territory."

Joe nodded thoughtfully but remained silent as Shane returned. She had knocked over seven pins then got a spare. Oliver was up next, knocking down six pins and then two.

"You're putting me to shame," Oliver told his wife, sitting down beside her as Joe prepared for his turn.

"Ahh, your score isn't looking so bad, honey." She patted him lovingly on the knee. "We're still the winning team. However, Rita is no longer throwing granny balls, so who knows what can happen now."

He chuckled. "She is gaining some momentum, but I don't think it will be enough to catch up to you. I never knew that you're such an exceptional bowler."

"Wait until you see my skydiving skills," Shane teased.

"I will put my foot down about skydiving."

"You don't have to worry about that," Shane assured him, chuckling.

He paused for a moment and eyed her seriously. "Are you feeling okay? You're sure you're not overdoing it?"

"I promise you, I'm fine, Oliver," she reassured him. "I bet I'll sleep soundly tonight, though. This has been a fun and memorable day, to say the least."

"It certainly has. And it's not over yet."

They grinned at each other, and Oliver attempted to steal another kiss, but not before his dad turned around and caught them once more.

"You're up, Shane," Joe informed her, giving the couple a smirk.

Shane backed away from Oliver just as their lips brushed. "Oh!" Blushing, she placed a hand on Oliver's knee and raised an eyebrow at him. He understood that she was telling him to stay put, so he refrained from escorting her to the approach.

Not surprisingly, Joe noticed the exchange. He grabbed Shane's bowling ball from the return and handed it to her, his eyebrows raised, as she laughed and rolled her eyes.

"What am I going to do with you two?" she asked with a sigh.

Joe grinned. "You know you're pretty special—to both of us."

Shane smiled, feeling a lump in her throat, and narrowed her eyes at Joe. "Are you trying to mess up my game?"

Joe laughed. "Not at all."

Shane grinned and prepared to throw the ball down the lane.

Joe walked back to where Oliver sat and took the chair beside him. "What's going on, Ollie?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is Shane okay?" Joe questioned.

"She's fine," Oliver replied. He shrugged a shoulder. "Why?"

"I've been thinking a lot about her—and you—lately. You sure are paying your wife extra special attention tonight." Joe grinned. "What's with the PDA and the extreme chivalry?"

"PDA? Chivalry?" Oliver sounded genuinely confused.

Joe shrugged his shoulder. "You're not usually so openly affectionate. And you've been handing the ball to Shane as though she is not capable of lifting it and carrying it herself. Yet I just picked it up, and it can't be more than eight pounds."

Oliver nodded wordlessly, watching Shane.

"And when you first got here, it seemed as though you didn't want her bowling at all, like you were afraid it would be dangerous or—"

Joe halted as Shane turned around. She watched them curiously for a couple of seconds, unaware of the conversation between him and Oliver but sensing its importance. Joe smiled and turned to Oliver, who bit his lip with a smirk so slight it was hardly noticeable, but nothing got past Joe. Shane's ball appeared and Oliver scurried to deliver it to her for the next throw.

"He knows," Oliver whispered to her on the approach, "and I think he's about to tell me he knows."

"Let's make him second-guess himself so we can surprise him. I have a plan." Shane spoke through her teeth, raising her brows. "But your constant bowling ball delivery services aren't helping our cause."

He sighed. "I can't help myself from helping you."

"I know," she chuckled. "And I love you for it. But it's really not necessary!" she added in a singsong voice.

Oliver smiled satisfactorily and returned to where Joe was still sitting and grinning from ear to ear.

"Come on, O'Toole," Joe prodded. "Does all this mean what I think it means?"

Oliver tried but couldn't hide his grin. His father's smile was infectious, but his own joy was unsurpassable.

"Woo-hoo!" Shane exclaimed as she turned around. "I got another spare. How are those scores looking now, gentlemen?"

"Well, you are definitely glowing, Shane," Joe stated, still beaming.

"Thank you, Dad," Shane replied, shaking her head and laughing to herself at his double meaning.

Oliver handed the ball to her one last time and she studied the lane ahead of her for a few moments before throwing. To her delight, she knocked all ten pins down.

"Another strike! You are a natural, my dear," Oliver commended her, pulling her close and kissing her forehead.

"I'm pretty happy with that score," she remarked, eyeing the screen, "considering how out of practice I am."

"You did amazing, Shane. You should join league bowling—maybe in the Fall?" Joe suggested.

Shane laughed. "Thank you, Joe. I'll give it some thought."

"Well, no matter what, we should definitely make _this_ a regular thing," Joe insisted.

Shane opened her mouth to agree, when a strange motion caught her eye and she gasped.

Rita was just past the foul line and into the slippery lane. She was sliding, one foot after the other, and could not get any traction, her arms flailing. Norman rushed to her and just as she was about to succumb to the floor, he caught her.

"What the Sam Hill," Oliver remarked as Joe laughed in amazement. Shane and Bill stood speechless.

Norman held her for a moment, and they looked each other in the eyes, much like when Mr. D'Lorman had come to Renita's rescue in the fictional romance book Rita had authored.

"Rita, are you okay?" Norman inquired.

She nodded. "I feel a little foolish but I'm okay."

"Don't feel foolish, Rita. You just had your eye on the target and stepped right over the foul line. It happens."

"Thank you, Norman."

"You're welcome. Do you think you might be able to stand up now? Apparently I need to do more squats every day." Norman grimaced.

"Oh! I think I'm good now," Rita replied. "Well, as long as my feet are on the right side of that line."

"Well, I'll make sure of that, sweetheart. Here we go," he told her, carefully helping her to stand and place her feet on solid ground.

"Nice save, Norman!" Bill told him as they turned around and started walking back to the group. "I never realized you could run that fast. And Rita, I don't think you noticed how many pins you knocked down."

"No, Daddy, I didn't think to look," Rita said, and they all chuckled. She glanced at the screen. "Wait...a _strike_?"

"Yep! On your very last frame."

"But I fouled." She winced.

"Ahh, who cares about that. At least you're okay, right?"

"Yep! Never been better."

Norman helped her to a chair. "Are you sure you're okay, Rita?"

"I'm fine! Go bowl. I'll just sit safely in this chair," she told him with a giggle.

As Norman and Oliver went to bowl, Shane sat down beside her friend.

"Rita, I am so sorry." Shane spoke quietly.

"What? Why?"

"Because I convinced you that bowling was safe." Shane was sure that Joe and Bill couldn't overhear.

"And it is, Shane. I'm the one who was not playing it safe," she chuckled. "I should have never crossed that foul line."

"I suppose boundaries can be a good thing," Shane said, watching Oliver with a far-off look in her eyes. "I don't set enough and Oliver sets too many. Not sure how we're going to manage this parenthood thing together." She sighed and chuckled with a shake of her head.

"Don't doubt yourself, Shane. The two of you might see some things a little differently, but it will all balance out. You'll see."

Shane nodded. "Thank you, Rita."

"Absolutely," Rita replied. She paused for a couple of moments, then pondered, "Do you think it's wise for us to tell Daddy now?"

"You don't think he should know?" Shane questioned, knitting her brow.

Rita shrugged her shoulders. "I haven't even been to the doctor yet, so I don't have confirmation like you do. I don't want to get his hopes up."

"Oh, Rita." Shane bit her lip and thought for a moment. "Try to have a little faith. I don't believe there is any reason to worry. Besides, I would think that your dad would want to be there for you, no matter what."

"That is true. Thank you, Shane," Rita said graciously.

"We'll get through this," Shane told her. "You know, I truly believe that if we can handle Oliver and Norman right now, we can handle anything."

They laughed.

"Tell me about it," Rita agreed, rolling her eyes.

Norman and Oliver finished their frames and Bill and Joe took their spots on the approach. As the two younger men walked back to their wives, Norman had a worried look on his face.

"Rita, are you hurting?"

"My lower back is aching some—I think I must have pulled it a little—but I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Do we need to go get you checked out?"

"No, Norman, it's okay. I can wait it out till tomorrow."

Norman didn't appear to be completely satisfied with her answer, but he stopped prodding.

"Are we all set?" Oliver inquired.

Shane smiled as Rita and Norman exchanged glances of confirmation.

Norman responded, "I believe so."

No one seemed concerned about the final scores of their game. As Joe and Bill walked back, Norman spoke up.

"Dad."

"Yeah, Norm?" Bill answered.

"Rita and I were wondering if you would be willing to do us a favor."

"Name it," Bill responded.

"Daddy," Rita said. "We'd like you to build something for us."

"Sure, honey," Bill replied with a shoulder shrug. "What do you have in mind?"

The couples shared a smile, and Rita turned back to her dad.

"A cradle."

Bill paused. "A _cradle_? For you two?"

Rita nodded, tears in her eyes.

Joe looked back and forth from the Dormans to Shane and Oliver, puzzled. Shane held her phone, recording the special moment between the Dormans and Bill, while Oliver watched proudly. The two were reveling in excitement for their friends.

"Are you serious?" Bill asked, shocked.

"Oh, we're serious. _Very_ serious," Norman answered while Rita nodded again.

"Yes, Daddy!" she exclaimed. "You're going to have a grandchild."

"This is the most exciting news I've heard in a long time!" He rushed over to Rita and picked her up, spinning her around, while Norman watched helplessly.

"Oh, um, Dad—" Norman attempted to stop Bill in his excitement.

Bill set her down and apologized. "I'm sorry. I got a little carried away."

"I'm okay, Daddy," Rita informed him, grinning.

"A baby?! I just can't believe it. Congratulations, sweetheart!" Bill kissed Rita on the cheek, then turned and approached Norman, who had a slightly worried look on his face. Bill chuckled and said, "Don't worry, son—I won't take you for a spin." They all laughed, Bill and Norman exchanging a heartfelt hug. "Congrats to you, too, son."

Norman smiled proudly and thanked him.

"Congratulations!" Joe hugged Rita and then shook Norman's hand, hugging him as well. "This is terrific news! I gotta tell you, there is nothing that compares to having a child." He glanced at Oliver with nostalgia gleaming in his eyes and Oliver smiled slightly.

"Thank you, Joe," Norman replied, as he put his arm around Rita's waist. "We are very excited."

"I know you are. But I don't think anyone's more excited than Bilbo here. Congratulations to you, Gramps!" Joe reached out his hand to Bill and they exchanged a hug.

While the Dormans and Bill chatted excitedly, Joe turned back to Oliver and Shane.

"Wow," Joe remarked. "That certainly took me by surprise. Honestly, I thought it was—." He stopped and chuckled, shaking his head. "You know what, never mind."

Oliver took a deep breath. "Dad, were you...hoping for...similar news from us?"

"Well, I—," Joe stopped and chuckled. "I might have misread some things and jumped the gun a little. I'm sorry for making an assumption."

"Aww, Dad, you have nothing to apologize for," Shane told him, her eyes tearing up. "And don't discount yourself—you have always had very good intuitive skills."

Oliver nodded in agreement. "That is true."

"In fact, we could use your help with this package, if you don't mind," Shane requested.

"Sure! I'm surprised that Oliver let it out of the DLO," Joe remarked with a chuckle, and Shane grinned.

Oliver handed the unmarked bundle to his father, then he and Shane watched with quiet excitement along with the others as Joe opened it. He pulled out a photo frame that held four pictures and knit his brow as he recognized three familiar faces in the frame. The first was a photo of Oliver's grandfather, followed by one of Joe, then Oliver. The fourth spot was left empty for the next O'Toole in line. Joe looked up at Oliver and Shane with a questioning gaze.

"You know how important family is to me—to us," Oliver stated. "We want you to know that one day, we do hope to fill in that fourth frame for you."

Joe teared up and nodded.

"Until then, though, perhaps this will be an appropriate placeholder." Oliver bit his lip to keep from smiling, mischievously handing Joe a slip of paper that Shane had pulled from an envelope in her purse.

Joe studied the piece of paper in his hands. It was an ultrasound photo, with the name Shane M. O'Toole at the top of the image. "I was right?" He looked at Shane and Oliver in shock.

"You were right, Dad." Oliver beamed.

Joe gazed at the precious first image of his grandchild for several seconds, his eyes misting, then he looked back up at Oliver and Shane. Wordlessly, he pulled his son into a bear hug. After a few seconds, he spoke in a raspy voice just above a whisper, still embracing Oliver.

"I could not be more thrilled for you, son."

He finally released his hold, and as Shane looked on, she caught glimpses of happy tears in both men's eyes. She shed her own tears watching the heartfelt father-son exchange. Rita and Norman looked at each other and smiled, as Bill watched with joy, overwhelmed by the revelations of the evening.

Joe turned to his daughter-in-law and gently wrapped his arms around her. "How are you feeling?"

Shane nodded in response, momentarily unable to speak. Joe backed away and looked at her, his hands on her upper arms.

"I'm good," she told him. "A little emotional at times and nauseous at other times—and occasionally both at the same time—but I suppose that's normal." She shrugged her shoulders and laughed through her tears.

"That sounds pretty normal to me," Joe told her with a grin, then hugged her again. "I'm glad you're doing okay. You know, Oliver had me worried about you there for a bit."

Oliver inched closer to Shane's side and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead. Shane knit her brow and looked up at Oliver questioningly. "Oh he did, huh?"

"I, uh—I might have called him a few times over the last couple of weeks, you know, for, uh..." Oliver shrugged his shoulder and the others chuckled.

"Moral support?" Shane inquired.

"Something like that, I suppose." He paused momentarily to carefully consider his words. "Under the extenuating circumstances of our latest mystery, you were exhibiting behaviors not natural for you—or perhaps behaviors that I did not recognize as natural for you, given the unique additional circumstances to which I was not privy at the time." Shane tried to hide her yawn and Joe stifled a laugh as Oliver continued. "Therefore, I was disconcerted and sought the advice of someone whom I believed would have the wisdom and expertise to assist me through the complexities of the situation."

Joe glanced back and forth at Oliver and Shane with a questioning look and a slight chuckle. "I could use a translation."

"He couldn't figure out what was going on with me and asked you for help," Shane rattled off matter-of-factly.

Joe finally let go of his laughter. "Now that's what I recall. And I'm ashamed to say that I didn't even consider this scenario until I saw you yesterday, Shane."

Oliver smiled and looked lovingly at his wife. "Shane and I didn't discuss it ourselves until after you left. We would have loved to have told you yesterday, but the timing just wasn't right."

Joe shook his head. "It's okay, Oliver. Always trust the timing. I'm not saying I had any doubts at all, but if I didn't believe in Oliver's Divine Delivery Theory before, I certainly do now."

"Oh?" Oliver inquired, raising his eyebrows at his dad, glancing down at Shane, who was a good bit shorter in her bowling shoes.

"I mean, you just tracked down the owner of a baby book, which _probably_ made you all seriously contemplate the idea of parenthood, and now both of you have discovered that you're having your own little miracles, at the same time? I don't think any of this is coincidental."

"Neither do we, Dad," Oliver agreed.

Shane shook her head in agreement, tears inching their way down her cheeks again. "The timing was perfect."

Oliver gazed adoringly at his wife and wiped her tears with his thumb. "It always is."


	3. Chapter 3

Tuesday, June 21, 2022

"Good morning, Rita!"

"Oh, Shane! Good morning!" Rita looked up from her task at hand and greeted her friend cheerily with a huge grin. "How are you?"

Shane sighed but smiled. "Don't tell Oliver," she whispered as she approached the table, "but I'm exhausted." Her voice gradually rose to a normal level as she spoke. "I kept hearing bowling pins falling all night long so I didn't exactly sleep soundly." They chuckled. "What about you?"

"Same," Rita replied, then furrowed her brow as she thought for a moment. "Well, I didn't realIy hear bowling pins. I have no idea why, but I kept dreaming about _Renita Hayweather_."

Shane grinned. "You should write a sequel: _Renita D'Lorman_!" she suggested.

Rita giggled and pushed her glasses up. "I would probably fall asleep if I tried to write now. I think I'm still trying to catch up from our whirlwind trip to Florida. It's hard to believe we only got back _two days _ago. So much has happened since then!"

"I know, right? Oliver even suggested that I take off again today, and I briefly considered it...but we've gotten a _little_ behind lately." Shane gestured to the overflowing bins of dead letters as Rita grimaced. "I wouldn't have been able to rest at home anyway, knowing that Oliver has an evaluation coming up."

Rita gasped. "We're up for inspection?"

Shane bit her lip. "I'm afraid so. And it's an unannounced visit," she added quietly. "I don't know how much time we have before the evaluator shows up. We have to do what we can to get this place in order."

Rita nodded. "Oh, of course!"

Shane glanced around. "Oliver had to go straight into a department meeting when we got here, but where's Norman?"

"Oh, he's out on the floor. He was called to retrieve a few more bins."

"More bins?!" Shane exclaimed.

"I know. We'll just have to take this one bin at a time—or one envelope at a time?" Rita grimaced again.

Shane made a crying face. "I guess that's all we can do. Let's just hope the inspection doesn't happen today. Or tomorrow. Or this week," she added, her voice deepening with emphasis.

They chuckled as they each pulled a stack of dead letters to examine. As they worked, they couldn't help but talk excitedly about their baby news. They had all decided the night before that they would share the news with family, but they were waiting a while to make it public. Both Shane and Rita were due in February, with only a couple of weeks between them.

"It's still so surreal," Rita stated.

"That is exactly what I told Oliver. I don't think we could have planned it better if we had tried," Shane remarked, and they giggled. She paused for a long moment and squinted her eyes at her friend thoughtfully. "Rita?"

"Hmmm?" Rita replied as she continued sorting through the envelopes.

"Is Norman driving you crazy?"

"Yeeeessss," Rita responded, slapping a stack of letters down on the table and glancing toward the door, then lowering her voice as she looked back at Shane. "I have to keep reassuring him that I'm fine. He wanted to take me to the ER before going home last night..._for an achy back_!" she stressed, raising her eyebrows. "And he seems to think he's not doing his job if he's more than two feet away from me at any given moment."

Shane laughed. "I'm having the same problem with Oliver. He practically begged me to go to the department meeting with him and when I told him I had plenty to do here, he wanted to escort me to the DLO." Shane sighed. "I assured him I had not forgotten how to get here, and that I didn't anticipate any danger along the way."

"Oh my," Rita giggled. "I think they are still adjusting."

"I think so too. Hopefully it's just an initial phase that fathers-to-be go through. Otherwise, it's going to be a _really _long time until February," Shane remarked.

The door to the Dead Letter Office opened and Norman pushed a cart through. Rita and Shane groaned at the load Norman brought with him—three large bins packed with dead letters and unattached objects. He stopped the rolling cart as he made eye contact with the ladies and held his hands up in mock surrender.

"I don't create dead mail; I just deliver it." He spoke matter-of-factly, then grimaced.

"It's not your fault, Norman," Shane assured him. "We'll get through this. Just _don't _go looking for any more, okay?"

"You got it," he replied, saluting her.

They laughed, and the ladies approached the cart to help Norman remove the bins.

"Uh-uh," Norman scolded them, holding out an index finger at each of them. "These are heavy, and I don't want either of you lifting more than a five-pound parcel."

"See?" Rita raised her eyebrows at Shane.

Shane shrugged her shoulders, and she and Rita headed back to the table without argument. They worked a while, chatting and collaborating on various pieces of puzzling correspondence. Sensing that the morning was slipping away, Shane paused to check her phone for the time. _Ten fifty-four_.

"Shouldn't Oliver be back by now?" Shane inquired.

"I guess the meeting is running a little longer than usual today," Norman stated.

"Huh," Shane said thoughtfully.

She was considering going to find her husband when she came across a small package that had been heavily damaged. The addresses were almost completely gone and she knew that they would have no choice but to investigate the contents within.

"Here's something interesting," Shane informed her colleagues, after emptying the package and finding a small object.

"What is _that_?" Rita inquired, peering at the item Shane was holding up. "A flash drive?"

Shane nodded. "Yep!"

"Is there a note?" Norman asked.

"The drive was wrapped in paper, but I don't see a message anywhere." Shane furrowed her brow as she checked the wrapping once more. "Maybe everything we need is on here." She shook the flash drive a little on the air for emphasis, then walked to her desk and connected the drive to her laptop.

"Wow," Shane remarked a few moments later.

Rita and Norman approached her desk and looked over her shoulders at the screen.

"Photographs?" Norman asked.

Shane nodded. "Several. There's also a video file. And a document. Let's check that out—it might be a note that could lead us to the sender or intended recipient."

She clicked the file named "Read First" and within a couple of seconds, the document appeared. Shane gasped as she quickly read silently through the first few lines.

"Oh, my," Rita expressed.

"Is that a...final message?" Norman inquired solemnly.

"It appears so," Shane replied, then began reading the note aloud.

"_Jack,_

_If you are reading this, it means that something unfortunate has happened. You could now say 'I told you so,' except you can't, because I am no longer here._

_I owe you an explanation, and an apology, so please watch the video clip included on this drive. It's easier for me to just talk things through than try to write it. Maybe then you'll understand why I had to leave, and hopefully you'll forgive me._

_Tell the kids that I love them. I love you, too._

_Kayla_"

"Whoa..." Rita commented.

"You can say that again," Shane agreed with a sigh. "That's all on this document. Let's see if it will tell us who created the file."

Shane clicked a few times and scanned the file properties, then sighed again in defeat.

"Created by 'user'—obviously Kayla—on April 11th of last year. What now?" Shane pondered. "Do we watch the video file next or investigate the pictures?"

"Neither." Their section leader had entered the office unnoticed because the three were so distracted. They jumped at the sound of his voice.

"Oh! Oliver!" Shane exclaimed. "We didn't hear you come in."

"So I gathered. My apologies for startling you all." He spoke professionally and with little emotion, and his current demeanor was not lost on any of them. "I presume that you are hard at work on identifying an unknown package?"

"Only one of a gazillion. There are enough dead letters in here to fill the Grand Canyon. We were just trying to make some progress and came across this flash drive," Shane explained, and Oliver nodded somberly, not bothering to ask what that meant. "It was in a badly damaged parcel. No written note—just this document, a video, and a bunch of images. I can print it all out for you. Well, everything except the video, of course."

Oliver was thoughtful for a moment. "It is rare that the clues are all in a digital format. Do you see anything on the surface that could positively identify either party or address?"

"Not much. Only a couple of first names," Norman informed him. "It looks like someone named Kayla sent this to someone named Jack. And there are children—but no names. This one might be rather challenging."

"Where is the envelope?" Oliver inquired.

"Right...here!" Rita exclaimed as she retrieved it from the mound of untouched letters on the table. She held it out to Oliver and he took it and examined it.

"I can't make anything out. It appears to have suffered some water damage and perhaps..." He stopped to sniff the package. "Oil?" He looked at Norman, who nodded in agreement. "I'm surprised that thing is even working," Oliver continued, motioning to the flash drive attached to Shane's laptop. "Norman, I assume you looked at this envelope?"

"I did, but without some heavy lab work, the addresses are not decipherable. Even then, it's questionable."

Oliver nodded.

"How do we proceed?" Shane inquired.

"Return the contents to its packaging and place it in the 'Indecipherable' bin."

His colleagues froze and looked at each other.

"But we don't _have _an 'Indecipherable' bin," Rita remarked, puzzled.

"We'll need to create one, Rita." He looked seriously at his team members. "Our time in the upcoming days will be quite valuable. With this overflow of dead letters and evaluations approaching, I'm afraid we will have to restructure our priorities."

Shane raised her eyebrows. "What exactly do you mean, Oliver?"

"Quantity is our priority. We simply _cannot_ devote the extra attention to individual letters that we normally would."

The POstables stood looking at their section leader as though the world had come to a complete standstill.

"Oliver." Shane stood up and walked over to her husband. "This isn't like you. You've never operated this office that way. You always pride yourself in the work that we do by trusting the timing of our encounter with each letter. We can't just put things on the back burner to meet some _quota_. These are people's lives we're dealing with."

"I believe this to be temporary, Shane, and I'm afraid I don't have a choice. We have to push as many of these letters out as possible, and just because we don't know the stories behind them doesn't mean we aren't making a difference. The unsolved ones will just have to remain unsolved for a while longer, that's all." He shrugged his shoulder.

"And that includes this flash drive?"

"Yes. It seems that it's going to take a lengthy investigation, so until further notice, it is part of the unsolvables."

"But what if this is time-sensitive?" Shane propped one hand on the edge of the table and the other on her hip.

"Shane, we also have to trust the timing with this delay. For some odd reason, we have a plethora of dead letters pouring into this office at a time when I—we—have to prove our competence in this department. We must shift our focus to rerouting more letters as quickly as possible. Quantity is paramount," he restated. "Despite our haste, I will still expect as much accuracy as is humanly possible."

His colleagues nodded.

"We can do this, Oliver," Shane assured him.

"Absolutely," Norman agreed.

Rita chimed in. "Neither rain nor sleet nor dark of night—"

"Regarding dark of night," Oliver interrupted Rita, and she raised her eyebrows. "I do not expect the two of you to work any overtime at all," Oliver continued, looking at Shane and Rita. "In fact, I won't allow it. Therefore, I've requested backup."

"What? Backup?" Shane scoffed. "As long as I've known you, Oliver, you have never requested backup." Her temper was beginning to flare once again and she turned to Norman and Rita, eyes narrowed. "Did Oliver _ever _request backup before I started working here?"

"No. Nope. Not once," Norman sputtered nervously, and Rita shook her head violently. The Dormans were obviously becoming uncomfortable with the developing tension between Oliver and Shane.

"And all of a sudden, you think that we are not capable of handling our jobs? Especially Rita and me?" Shane had turned back to Oliver, her eyes glaring at him, demanding an answer.

"Shane," Oliver said quietly but firmly. "I would have considered calling for backup even if you and Rita weren't—" He paused. "This is not about your current conditions or your abilities to do your jobs. You see the bins. We were focused for days on solving a single case that you coerced upon us—which was not even official postal business, I might add—that we lost some valuable working hours, especially over the last week—"

"So you're saying that we _wasted _valuable time on Tori's baby book," Shane stated. "And now we're behind and it's all my fault because I _manipulated _you into investiga—"

"No, that is not what I meant to say at all, Shane."

"That's funny, because I recall you telling me that when you say something, you mean it."

"Please allow me to finish." He stared at her for a few seconds as if willing her to be silent. "What I was attempting to communicate is that despite the fact that we were focused on the album and out of the office for a couple of days, we have never had incoming letters of this proportion. It's quiet bizarre, actually. Even under the best of circumstances, this is beyond the scope of our capabilities. It is just too much for the four of us to handle."

Shane sighed in defeat. "I see. So did you submit an official request?"

"Verbally."

"You called Becky."

"I did."

Shane pursed her lips. "And did you tell her...everything?"

Norman and Rita continued to quietly observe the O'Tooles' exchange, eyes wide.

Oliver sighed. "No, I did not."

Shane nodded tersely, her lips tightly pressed together.

"We discussed the possibility of intern help, or even a temporary transfer of someone at this location to our department, but after considering the pros and cons—mostly cons—we decided against both. Becky actually wants to come assist us herself, but it's virtually impossible with all the meetings she has scheduled for the next couple of weeks."

"So...?" Shane prodded.

"She's sending someone from the Mail Recovery Center in Atlanta—a mail analyst with years of experience in dead letter operations."

Oliver leaned on the edge of his desk, arms crossed, waiting for a response, but Shane turned and marched back to the mound of envelopes and packages on the table.

Rita and Norman followed her cue. As the three silently picked up where they had left off, Oliver watched them for several seconds, feeling dejected. Not only was he remorseful for causing discomfort among the team, but this was his second disagreement with Shane in the two days since he had discovered her pregnancy. Would this be a daily habit? He certainly hoped not, or the next several months would be miserable. He had to find a way to smooth things over with his wife and their colleagues.

As awkward as he felt, Oliver tried to put his feelings aside and joined his team as they worked earnestly through dozens of letters. After a while, the silence amongst them dissipated, yet the tension he had felt with Shane still lingered. He decided he would talk with Norman and Rita first, then have a meaningful conversation with Shane later. He took the opportunity to address the Dormans when Shane excused herself for a restroom break.

"Norman, Rita, I hope you understand that I have every bit of confidence in your abilities. My request for backup was not meant to insult either of you or Shane. You all have amazing talents, and we are an outstanding team, but we're only human. I called for backup because I care about you all and I don't want any of you to become over—"

"Oliver, we know," Norman interjected, holding up a hand.

Oliver pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, yes, Oliver," Rita added graciously. "You're always looking out for all of us."

Oliver nodded with relief, looking down. "I appreciate your understanding. I am trying my best," he explained, looking back up, "but I seem to be failing miserably...with Shane."

"Oliver," Norman addressed him, "I think we all just need some time to adjust to these new circumstances."

"Norman's right, Oliver. Shane seems to be just a little defensive right now. Finding out that you're going to be a mother reeeeally can turn a girl's world upside down."

"I can't imagine what you two are feeling, Rita," he told her. "I just want her to remember that we're in this—all of this—together, as a team. I'm not trying to work against her. I'm trying to work with her. For her."

"Aww, Oliver, I'm sure she knows that," Rita assured him. "But you should tell her anyway. Sometimes our minds get a little clouded and we just don't think straight."

Oliver nodded thoughtfully. "I'm going to step out, but I'll be back shortly." He pulled out his pocket watch and opened it. "You two should take a break, actually. It's almost lunch time."

The Dormans nodded as Oliver headed to the door.

"Oh, and, uh, thank you both," Oliver said, turning back to his colleagues once more.

"You're welcome!" Rita piped up.

"Of course," Norman replied. "Anytime."

Oliver smiled and exited the DLO, leaving Norman and Rita alone together.

"You know, Rita, everything that Oliver expressed, I feel that way too, about you. I'm just not a man of words like he is."

"Oh, Norman. You know what they say—actions can speak louder than words. I never doubt your intentions. And deep down, I don't think Shane questions Oliver's intentions, either. They have a few things to work through, but they'll get it."

"Yes, they will," Norman nodded and then paused for a few moments. "Rita, how are you feeling?"

"Norman, I feel fine! No symptoms yet, and my back is much better. I will let you know the _minute _anything changes, I promise," Rita vowed.

"Good. But you know, I don't just mean physically. I know that you were excited to tell your dad about the baby, but I could sense some sadness there, too."

Rita nodded and attempted to swallow the lump forming in her throat. "I always wanted my mom to be here when I became a mom, but now that's never going to happen." Her eyes glistened and she let out a little sob as Norman took her hands in his. "It hurts, but I'm incredibly thankful to have Shane to help me through it." She paused and squinted her misty eyes. "And you, too, of course," Rita added with a giggle, pushing her glasses up.

"I'm here!" Norman said in a singsong voice, then his expression grew serious again. "And I love you."

"I love you, too," Rita responded.

Norman kissed her, then glanced at his watch. "Oh, it _is_ lunch time. I'm thinking we should give Oliver and Shane some space today."

"I totally agree," Rita replied. "So where to? Our usual?"

"I think a constant in our lives might be just what we need right about now." Norman grimaced.

The Dormans laughed and walked hand in hand out of the DLO, following the familiar path to the Mailbox Grille.


	4. Chapter 4

Oliver stood awkwardly near the door to the ladies' restroom trying to determine his next steps with Shane. Unfortunately, the tension between the two of them had not been resolved before she walked out of the DLO. He knew she was feeling undermined by his decision to call for extra assistance, but if only she understood his motives... As he waited for a few minutes, he prayed and tossed verbiage in his head until he felt confident in what he would say.

Shane had been in the lounge a little more than ten minutes, if she had even gone in there at all. He decided to wait another three minutes and then he would bend the rules if necessary. The last thing that Oliver O'Toole—ever the gentleman—expected to do was to enter the ladies' restroom. He could only hope that since no one had exited in the last five minutes that Shane was alone in there.

But what if she needed him? Suddenly he couldn't wait another minute, much less three. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed. Cracking the door open, he covered his eyes with his free hand as he called out her name.

"Shane! Are you in there?"

"Yes," she replied, although her voice was unsteady. Oliver's senses went into overdrive as he considered the possible reasons why she sounded so strange.

"Is anyone else in there?"

No answer.

"I'm coming in," Oliver announced, no longer worried about anything or anyone but his wife.

Shane was standing at the sink when he entered, placing a toothbrush in her purse and then wiping her face with a wet paper towel. Oliver frowned as he noticed her grave demeanor. He swallowed a lump in his throat, feeling guilty for the harsh words he had spoken to her earlier.

"Oh, Shane." He stood behind his wife and placed his hands on her upper arms, studying her in the mirror. "I am terribly sorry. I hate that I upset you and that you felt the need to come in here to find a safe space, away from me."

When she didn't say a word, he noticed that she was trembling. He felt her shaking under his hands, but it was enough that he could see it in the mirror as well.

"Oh, no," he said, once he realized that she had not retreated there solely out of anger. "Have you been sick?"

Shane nodded feebly at his reflection and then looked down with a sigh. He eased her around gently and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her pale forehead as she buried her head in his shoulder for several seconds. She took a deep breath and cut her eyes up at him.

"I just—it hit me out of nowhere. I started feeling a little yucky, so I came in here and... Now I just feel so weak."

He rubbed her back and sighed helplessly, wishing he could make her feel better. The sad expression he wore, his eyes conveying a deep concern for her, made her heart squeeze and her eyes burn. Wordlessly, Oliver tipped up her chin with his forefinger and bent his head down to meet her lips with his. If she had been entirely truthful with him in that moment, he would have known that his kiss only intensified her weakened state.

Seconds later, the door to the ladies' room swung open. The couple broke their kiss, turning in shock as they remembered where they were, recognizing one of the front office managers. The manager gasped as she made eye contact with Oliver, then glanced at Shane and back at him, her eyes narrowing in disapproval. With a huff, she turned to exit.

"I—uh—" he started to call out, but the door slammed shut behind her.

Despite feeling physically drained, Shane stifled a giggle and looked up at Oliver once again. He turned his head back and shrugged his shoulder, eyeing her for a couple of seconds as if considering picking up where they left off. He looked like a little boy who had shamelessly not only colored outside the lines, but all over the walls as well. Shane couldn't help it and finally giggled out loud.

"What is it?" he asked, smiling slightly at her with questioning brows.

"It's just—I never pictured you standing in the ladies' room, holding me after I've been sick, kissing me like you mean it, and scaring off other women. And to top it all off, none of it seems to bother you." She studied him with amusement. "What the Sam Hill."

Oliver glanced up toward the ceiling and back down at her, shaking his head. "What the Sam Hill..." he muttered with an lighthearted grin, tucking strands of unkempt hair behind her ears. "I'm in the _ladies' _room." He caressed her face with his eyes. "The things I do for you," he declared with a sigh, and she chuckled.

He planted another kiss on her forehead and enveloped his wife into his arms once again, holding her close. The love he had shown her—his willingness to step out of his comfort zone for her—was enough to cause any prior tension between them to dissipate.

"We probably should go before Ms. Manager reports us for inappropriate behavior," Shane suggested reluctantly. "Because you know what she's thinking, and that kind of accusation would not look too great on your evaluation—married or not."

Oliver nodded and grimaced as he relaxed his hold on her. "Are you okay or am I going to have to carry you out of here?" His blue eyes sparkled as he spoke with a teasing tone.

"I think I can manage." She raised her eyebrows and gave him a knowing look. "That would draw all sorts of attention out on the floor."

"That is true." He laughed. "Ready?"

"I am," Shane said confidently, reaching for her purse on the vanity. "I just don't quite feel like running a marathon."

"That is understandable. There's no rush," he told her, letting go with one arm but holding her lightly around the waist with the other.

Oliver guided his recovering wife out of the ladies' room and past the manager, who was waiting just outside the door with a slight scowl.

"Thank you," Oliver told her. "My sincerest apologies, but I believe we have the situation under control now."

Without waiting for a response, the couple continued down the hall and snickered on their way back to the DLO, Shane leaning into Oliver.

"Do you think she'll tell anyone?" Oliver inquired quietly.

"Yes. But who's going to believe her?" Shane giggled. "Oliver O'Toole in the _ladies' _room? That sounds like a headline you'd see on one of those fake news magazines at the checkout stand."

He chortled. "Let's hope we don't see that in writing anywhere, and especially not on my evaluation."

Once Oliver pushed the door open to their office, he glanced around to ensure their privacy, then shockingly scooped Shane up in his arms as she laughed heartily.

"You don't think I could make it to my desk from here?" She narrowed her eyes at him playfully.

"You are not going to your desk, Mrs. McInerney-O'Toole," he said with a smirk as he passed it by. "It's break time."

A moment later, he gently eased her down onto the sofa.

"Oliver," she protested. "If I lie down, I might just go to sleep."

"Then maybe sleep is what you need," he countered, shrugging his shoulder as he stood in front of her. "I do know you need to stay hydrated. Would you like some ginger ale?"

"I would love some, but I don't want you to have to go to the store. Water is fine."

"Oh, there's ginger ale in the refrigerator," he informed her proudly. "I stocked up just in case."

"What?" Shane pondered. "You already prepared for this?"

"I was just doing what any considerate supervisor would do." He shrugged his shoulders, and she laughed, shaking her head as he continued. "I once had a thoughtful employee who ensured that Yoo-Hoos were stocked up for me, just in case."

Oliver knelt down on the floor beside the sofa, his face inches above hers, taking her hand in his.

"Do you remember what I told her?"

"I do," Shane said softly with a grin, her eyes slightly misty. "You said that one day, you hoped to return the favor."

He nodded. "I know it's not quite the romantic gesture that you gave me, but—"

Shane placed her fingers on his lips to silence him.

"Are you kidding? That's the most thoughtful thing you could do for me right now, so yes, it's terribly romantic." Her voice cracked a little as she continued. "You are always, always looking out for others, especially me. I love you, Oliver. I'm so glad I get to do life with you—the good, the bad, the ugly."

Oliver chuckled. "Who's ugly?"

"Me, right now," Shane replied with a grimace.

"Shane, I assure you that you are more beautiful now than ever." Oliver gazed at his wife with adoration. "And I didn't think it was possible, but I'm fairly certain that I love you more now than ever." He lifted her hand and kissed it as he continued to gaze at her, her eyes still glistening.

Unable to refrain, he leaned over and brushed his lips over hers, kissing her softly but passionately. After a few moments, he reluctantly backed away and let go of her hand, then stood to retrieve the cold drink from the refrigerator.

Oliver returned promptly with a ginger ale and a Yoo-Hoo. He sat down beside Shane and handed her the ginger ale. Then he held his bottle up to hers and she giggled joyfully as they clinked their bottles together. He grinned at the sound of her laughter.

They sat quietly together on the couch for a while as Shane slowly took sips of the ginger ale and Oliver finished his Yoo-Hoo. Oliver took Shane's hand once again and looked at her. She met his gaze and raised her eyebrows, questioning his thoughts.

"I want you to know that...I am not terribly fond of the idea of having someone else working in this space with us—besides Norman and Rita, of course. We are a family, and although it will only be temporary, I can imagine the challenges that having an additional team member will present."

Shane watched him patiently, then followed his gaze as it shifted to the bins of overflowing mail across the room.

"However, I would be remiss if I expected us to handle the issue at hand without assistance. Shane," he spoke carefully as he turned back to her. "I assure you, when I made this decision, I was thinking of you—and Rita—and Norman as well. I don't want to do harm to our team by placing unrealistic expectations on any of you, or myself, for that matter."

Shane nodded. "But Oliver, I don't think it's unrealistic to believe we can handle this on our own. We haven't even had a chance to try."

"We _could_ probably handle this on our own—but I'm quite certain that it would require putting in numerous extra hours, and I'm not willing to overwork you and Rita. Even if Norman and I worked overtime shifts, that would mean sending the two of you home alone at the end of the day."

"And?" Shane raised her eyebrows.

"Well, I don't want my expectant wife home alone in the evenings...and I'm quite certain Norman would feel the same way."

Shane bit her lip as she contemplated his statement but decided to stick closer to the matter at hand for the time being. "So, tell me again, do you really believe you would have called for backup if Rita and I weren't pregnant?"

Oliver was silent for a moment as he looked away. He took a deep breath.

"But the reality is that you _are_." Oliver's eyes met hers once again. "It made my decision that much easier."

"But if we weren't, you wouldn't have requested backup and the four of us would handle this, whatever it took. Right?"

"I have never been in a situation quite like this before, so I'm not entirely certain. Why are you questioning this with what-ifs, Shane? The decision has been made and I truly believe it's the best one under the circumstances."

"Oliver, we're not exactly proving our competence by asking for extra assistance!" Shane was flustered and sharply removed her hand from his, tucking her hair behind her ear. "They could decide to assign someone else to the DLO, some permanent fifth-wheel, because we can't handle our workload! If sending someone temporarily is successful in lessening the backlog and increasing our output, then that could very well happen."

"I don't believe that it will. I explained to Becky that we had gotten a little behind while we were primarily focused on a single case—although I did not reveal that we were working on something that was not even official postal business—"

"The wedding invitation was," she retorted, irritated that he kept referring to their latest investigation as unofficial and making implications that she was to blame.

"But the album wasn't." His tone and expression once again clearly reflected his annoyance at her being brazenly manipulative.

"Oliver, I know you blame me for this accumulation because I insisted on investigating Tori's album. But what happened to your 'trust the timing' theory? Does that only apply in context when you want it to? Maybe there's a reason for all of this," she told him, gesturing at the hundreds of letters before them. "You know that if we hadn't had the album, we wouldn't have been able to determine the details of the wedding invitation and therefore reunite Tori with the Hasletts."

Oliver took a deep breath. "I won't deny that _that _is true. However, I am struggling to find a good reason for this massive backlog. I have believed it to be solely the result of my negligence as section leader. From now on, I refuse to continue making poor decisions that will cause even more problems for us, hence the reason I requested extra assistance. If we hadn't prioritized the investigation of the album for so many days, perhaps we wouldn't currently be in a situation that has forced me to ask for backup."

"Well, I am sorry that my obsession with Tori's baby book has caused complications for us." Shane gritted her teeth. "But maybe you should have waited a bit before requesting backup. You don't think _that_ will cause even more problems? Why not just trust your team to step up and get the job done?!"

"You think I don't trust you? What about trusting me, as section leader, to make the right decisions when it comes to running this office? Believe me, you have always had _plenty_ of input regarding our work here and you always get your way, but this time, I cannot be manipulated. There is too much at stake. I know the four of us could handle this, but we shouldn't have to when there is another option, Shane!"

They were at a standstill, after running in circles. Shane remained silent for several seconds. Then she finally spoke in a quiet voice.

"There _is _too much at stake, Oliver, and that's what I don't understand. By requesting extra assistance with our workload, you could be risking your evaluation score—and we both know how important that is to you. In turn, you could be risking the very structure of the POstables. You've never been willing to do that before, so why now?"

"Because of you, Shane. Because you—and our baby—are what matter to me more than anything. And because I truly believe that the situation here will eventually be resolved and we can go back to normal—or at least our new normal. But I will not take risks when it comes to you."

Shane sat quietly, realizing the real root of Oliver's actions and having mixed feelings about his overprotectiveness of her. But that would have to be a conversation for another day. Their focus on his decision to call for backup had just about drained all of her energy and she didn't care to pick another fight at the moment.

Oliver sighed as he gazed at her. "I _am _sorry that I did not discuss this with you beforehand, but the opportunity simply did not present itself. While I was sitting in the department meeting this morning, I prayed about our dilemma. I am almost ashamed to say that I don't even know what the meeting was about. At the time I seemed to only have two choices to occupy my thoughts—worry or prayer. By the time I left, I had an inexplicable peace about what to do and went directly to a conference room to call Becky—before I changed my mind—and we talked it over for a while. She and I both feel that this is the right solution. I know that it must have come as quite a shock to the three of you," he surmised. "But Norman and Rita have graciously accepted my decision and I need your support as well."

Shane nodded in understanding. While it was not her nature to simply let go of something she felt so strongly about, her husband was making a valid argument. She was also becoming mentally exhausted. Her emotions were simmering down, her heart softening as she considered his point of view.

"Of course you have my full support, Oliver. You made an executive decision based on what you felt led to do, and while I don't necessarily agree that such extreme actions were necessary just yet, I know your heart, and I understand your intentions."

Oliver narrowed his eyes at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Shane continued. "Besides, you are the section leader and I'm just an employee."

Oliver chuckled and shook his head at her. "You have never been _just _an employee, Shane. You are first and foremost my wife, who just happens to work in the department I supervise. But because I am head over heels in love with you and so easily succumb to your wishes, I often wonder who _actually _runs this place." His eyes sparkled with amusement.

Shane gave him a sideways grin. "I know that at times I can be a bit...persuasive."

"Shane, I will admit that your tenacity frequently frustrates me, yet it's also one of your most endearing qualities." He smiled at her tenderly, then gave her a solemn stare. "The truth is I feel like I have lost control of our department lately, and therefore I have been deliberately placing blame on you out of frustration. I am sorry for that."

Shane nodded at his confession. "It's okay, Oliver. I understand."

"I do believe that the time we spent on Tori's baby book was time well spent and not wasted. With that delivery, we were able to bring hope and healing, which is our mission. I've come to realize that this higher calling requires us to use our skills wherever and however we can to do good and to change people's lives. Although it might not be ideal, I believe that having temporary assistance will help us to get caught up on the overflow so that we can continue doing the work that we are called to do."

Shane was about to respond to his heartwarming speech when he took a deep breath and frowned at the bins of unprocessed letters and packages.

"What are you thinking, Oliver?"

"We might have gotten behind in our everyday procedures, but I cannot blame the actual influx of dead letters on anything we have or have not done. Something very strange is going on here," he informed her pensively.

"What do you mean?" Shane inquired, knitting her brows.

"Where are all these letters coming from? And how long will they keep coming? As many years as I've worked in the Dead Letter Office, I've never seen anything like it. It's as though a ship filled with U.S. mail sunk somewhere and they're directing the whole boat load to us, one bin at a time."

"It _is_ a whole lot of mail." Shane took a deep breath.

Oliver turned to peer into her eyes with a defeated expression.

"I am sorry, Shane, for all of this, and for the tension between us. I want to protect you from stress, especially now. I don't want to place you in the middle of it, and I certainly don't want to be the cause of it."

Shane shook her head, gazing back at him sympathetically.

"What is it?" he asked her, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he watched her intently.

"I was just thinking about what you said in the ladies' room earlier, about me finding a safe space away from you..." Shane sighed and pursed her lips. "Oliver, you make me feel a lot of things—but you never, ever make me feel unsafe. If anything, it's the complete opposite. I can't run away from you to find a safe space. You _are_ my safe space. Even when you make me absolutely crazy, I feel so loved and cherished and protected by you."

Oliver took the ginger ale from her hand and placed it on a nearby table beside his empty Yoo-Hoo bottle. He turned back to Shane with an expression of yearning that took her breath away.

"Oliver—"

In an instant, Oliver had cupped her face with his hands. He claimed her lips with his own and kissed her until the Dormans returned from lunch.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Wednesday, June 22, 2022_**

The next morning, the O'Tooles and Dormans arrived simultaneously at work just prior to eight o'clock. They walked in together, chatting animatedly.

"Happy Coffee Cart Anniversary!" Rita exclaimed, eyeing the coffee cup in Shane's hand, and the O'Tooles exchanged a smile. Each year on this date, they shared a few minutes of nostalgia at a coffee cart near the DLO before work.

"Thank you, Rita," Shane told her friend sincerely. "Goodness, it is hard to believe that it's been _nine_ years since I met you all."

"Wow! And so much has changed since then."

"The biggest change?" Shane asked, holding her coffee cup up, then answered, "Decaf. Talk about swill."

They laughed.

"It seems that ordering decaffeinated coffee for my wife has made this usually celebratory morning, well, noncelebratory," Oliver stated with a sigh.

"You'll make up for it tonight," Shane told him, giggling. The Dormans' eyes grew large and Shane became quickly aware of their misinterpretation. "Oh—uh, Oliver's taking me out to dinner tonight."

"Oh! Of course," Rita said with a snicker.

The four continued walking toward their office space, talking and laughing lightheartedly.

Despite the load that remained in the DLO, the POstables had managed to make much progress the previous day, sending countless letters to their intended destinations or back to their senders. Oliver had been pleased with what they had accomplished and officially closed the DLO at about half past four, sending everyone home for some much-needed rest. Each of them had indeed gotten a good night's sleep, and that seemed to improve moods all around as the POstables prepared for another busy day reviving dead letters.

During the ping-pong discussion the day before, Shane had acknowledged that Oliver had made an understandable decision to request reinforcements, considering what they were facing. While the conversation did not solve everything, it was a solid start. The couple's openness and honesty throughout their chat led to a much more peaceful afternoon of work followed by an enjoyable evening alone together. As they left their home and headed toward the DLO that morning, the couple experienced a closeness that is so often the result of emotional and physical intimacy.

Upon entering the DLO, the gang was shocked to find an unknown visitor. The woman was slender and petite, but her presence spoke volumes. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties and wore a plaid dress suit, glasses, and two-inch heels. Her blond hair was pulled tightly into a bun near the top of her head and reflected her serious demeanor. On first impression, the POstables assumed that this visitor was to conduct annual evaluations.

"Good morning," Oliver greeted her, trying his best to balance cheeriness and professionalism.

"Good mornin'," she repeated in an obvious southern drawl. Without a smile, she eyed each of them, her gaze landing on Norman. "My name's Mia Landers. Corporate sent me to help y'all clear a backlog of dead letters."

"Oh!" Shane exclaimed, as relief washed over all of their faces. "You're from Atlanta?"

"Yes, ma'am, I sure am," Mia replied.

"Well, Ms. Landers, it is a pleasure to meet you," Oliver responded. "As you can see, we have more than we can handle at the moment, at least in a timely manner. We are all grateful for another set of eyes and hands."

"I bet y'all are. There's more letters in this place than you can shake a stick at." Mia glanced around at the bins lining the wall. Oliver grimaced at the southerner's grammar, while Shane and Rita exchanged wide-eyed glances. The petite blond turned back to the foursome. "Oh, and you can just call me Mia."

"I'm Oliver O'Toole, and this is my wife Shane."

"Hello," Shane greeted their temporary colleague.

"_Shane?_" Mia said, seeming slightly puzzled and maybe even annoyed. "Well, aren't you precious."

"Likewise," Shane retorted, not skipping a beat. She eyed Oliver and he shrugged his shoulder as Mia turned to the Dormans.

"I'm Rita Dorman!" Rita spoke jovially. "And this is my husband, Norman."

"Well, I'll be," Mia drawled out, clearly bothered.

"You'll be what?" Norman asked innocently.

Rita chuckled nervously and elbowed Norman in the ribs. "Don't you just love his sense of humor?"

Mia chuckled, though her amusement seemed forced as her eyes were glued to Norman. "Why, yes, I do, honey. A sense of humor is high on my list."

Rita's expression grew serious and she frowned, irritated, but Mia seemed oblivious. Rita turned to find Norman smiling with pride, as if he had accomplished some great feat. She rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm with both hands, squeezing until he turned to look at her in shock.

"What are the odds of two married couples workin' together in the same office? That how personnel likes it these days? Seems like they would have transferred a couple of you outta here."

"We have faced that battle before," Oliver informed her. "But as you'll see in the coming days, we are an inseparable, highly successful team."

"Oh, yes," Rita chimed in. "We accomplish so much more together than we could ever do apart."

"Yet you called for me." Mia gave them a smug smile.

"Well, I—we've never experienced an issue such as this," Oliver explained. "Under normal circumstances, we manage just fine."

Mia pursed her lips, seemingly unconvinced but not willing to press the issue any further at the moment. She eyed the bins again.

"So, what's the plan, boss?" Mia turned and looked Norman directly in the eyes.

He stared back for a moment, then pointed to himself and said, "Me? Oh, no. I'm not, uh—I'm not the section leader. Oliver is." He gestured toward Oliver with a nod.

"Oh. Well, it sure was an honest mistake." Mia winked at Norman.

Rita squinted her eyes and scowled. This southern belle was flirting with Norman, and Rita was getting worked up. Shane widened her eyes at Oliver and he easily read her thoughts.

"Ms. Landers—uh—Mia—our plan for now is a simple one, although it might not be easy." Mia raised her eyebrows at Oliver and he continued. "We must work quickly to get as many dead letters out to the intended recipients or returned to the senders. If a piece of correspondence is externally indecipherable, we will place it in the 'Indecipherable' bin, as we do not currently have the time to investigate further."

"So basically, we're just dealin' with addresses here? No contents within?"

"For the time being, that is correct."

Mia shrugged. "Whatever suits your fancy. You are the section leader."

"Rita, Norman," Oliver addressed his colleagues and cleared his throat. "Why don't you show Mia around and we'll get started shortly."

The Dormans responded positively, yet Rita bit her lip. When they disappeared into the lab a few moments later, Shane turned to Oliver and cocked her head.

"_Really?_"

"I'm not understanding what it is that you are implying."

"This woman has the personality of—well, I don't know how we can accomplish much more with her around than we normally would." Shane whispered loudly, irritated.

"Shane—" Oliver hissed, shushing her. "Give it at least a day. Three minutes is not enough time to make a sound judgment, hmm?"

"Fair enough. But I'm telling you—she's not going to be easy to work—"

"Oh, my, y'all have quite the space," Mia stated as she reentered the main room of the DLO. "Your setup is manageable and you're somewhat organized."

Shane scoffed. "_Somewhat?_"

"Thank...you," Oliver said hesitantly, placing a hand to Shane's back to calm her, although he was equally as flustered. "We are all accustomed to our _setup_ and I believe it has been quite efficient and serves us well."

"There's a saying we have in the South—'If it ain't broke, don't fix it.'"

"Precisely!" Oliver exclaimed.

"But what if it doesn't cut the mustard?" Mia crinkled her nose.

"I beg your pardon?" Oliver's eyebrow went up as he glared at her, while the other POstables exchanged glances.

"I have a few organization tips that should make things run much more smoothly, or at least they work well for us in Atlanta. I'll email you a list before tomorrow."

"Oh, uh, Oliver doesn't have an email address," Norman quipped.

"No email?"

"No email," Oliver responded firmly.

"O–kaaaay." Mia reacted with a tsk. "Well, that will be number one on the list. How do you operate without email?"

Oliver shrugged his shoulder. "Electronic mail is a less personable means by which people communicate these days and it simply isn't necessary for my position as section leader."

"But how do you stay informed about changes within the company, scheduled meetings, etcetera?"

"That's what I'm here for. I provide technical support and manage the email account for the DLO," Shane informed her.

"Before Shane joined our team, a messenger would slip memos right under our door." Rita chuckled.

"Oh yeah! I had almost forgotten about that!" Norman exclaimed.

"Huh," Mia responded without comment.

"Ms. Lan—Mia. I will admit that we are perhaps a bit unconventional in our methods to operate this office. However, as I said before, our arrangement works well for us. If there are suggestions you'd like to make you can send them to Shane and she'll be happy to pass them along to me."

Mia nodded and eyed Shane. "What's that email address?"

"It's POstables—" Shane began.

"POstables?" Mia knit her brow.

"That's us!" Norman replied. "It's like our code name."

Mia raised her eyebrows.

"We don't really _need_ a code name," Rita explained animatedly. "We don't normally go undercover or anything like that. But well, when we helped a girl get a kidney, we got the Dark of Night Award and we became the POstables!"

"Well, ain't that somethin'." Mia took a deep breath and turned back to Shane. "That email address?"

"Oh, yes." Shane rattled it off as Mia made a mental note.

"Shouldn't you...write that down?" Oliver asked.

"Oh, I won't forget it," Mia stated confidently. "I have the memory of an elephant."

"Rita has an excellent memory as well," Norman piped up. "Hers is more visual, though."

Rita giggled and pushed her glasses up her nose with her forefinger. "Once I see it, I can't unsee it." She shrugged her shoulders for effect.

"It's such a curse, I tell ya. I've heard many things in my lifetime that I _wish_ I could forget." Was it their imaginations, or did Mia shudder at her own statement?

"Actually, Rita's photographic memory has been quite a blessing in our line of work," Oliver spoke up. "There have been a number of dead letter mysteries solved in this office thanks to her unique gift."

Rita beamed at Oliver's praise while Mia seemed distracted by her thoughts.

"It is now past eight o'clock, so let's get started, shall we?" Oliver suggested, then turned to Mia. "We are handling the bins in the order in which they arrive to the Dead Letter Office. Norman, would you kindly bring us the next bin in line?"

"I'll be happy to," Norman responded with a nod. He retrieved the load of letters and placed it on the table.

"Thank you, Norman." Oliver reached in to remove an envelope, then peered at its markings. "The recipient's address has been eradicated on this one, so it appears that we are returning to sender. We have a partial address—113 M-a-r and a city beginning with Ph. The last digits of the zip code are 63."

"I'm on it," Shane stated, taking the envelope from Oliver and heading to her desk. Within a few moments, Shane had found an address to match and the letter was on its way to where it had originated.

"Okay, next!" Oliver pulled the second letter out of the bin as Mia observed, her eyes appearing to roll slightly.

"Do y'all have to do everything together?" The POstables turned to her in shock. "And so ceremoniously?"

"Well, Ms. Lan—. I'm sorry—Mia. Do you have a better suggestion?" Oliver inquired.

"I just might." Mia reached into the bin and took out a handful of letters, handing them to Rita. "Here ya go." Taking another batch, she handed them to Norman. "Here's yours, honey."

"Oh! O—kay..." Norman responded, not quite sure how to react to her impromptu command. This unfamiliar woman had been here less than an hour and she was already turning the DLO upside down, distressing his colleagues.

"How do you propose—" Oliver began.

"First, we work individually to sort." Mia glanced around and found two slightly smaller, empty bins. She placed them on the table and gestured to the bins as she spoke. "Those needing tech support to complete addresses will be given to Shane, while those needing special handling will go to the lab for Norman's expertise." She beamed at Norman, much to Rita's dismay, then rattled on. "And of course there will be the occasional addresses we just can't work with without further investigation, so those will be put on hold."

Oliver held up a forefinger and retrieved the bin of envelopes with indecipherable addresses. It was halfway full, with the unidentified flash drive lying on top of the load. Shane eyed the package and her curiosity was stirred once again. Mia continued talking.

"These decisions can be made independently—we all have worked with dead letters long enough to know what we're dealing with. Once we have a bunch sorted, I say the Dormans man the lab and you two," Mia continued, looking at Oliver and Shane, "can work together in here. I'll continue to sort as you all do your thing and be here to fill in any gaps as needed."

"That sounds like it _actually_ could work," Shane admitted, not quite sure if she was more surprised at the woman's boldness to take over with such authority or that she had managed to formulate a feasible plan so quickly.

"Very well," Oliver conceded after contemplating for a few moments. "Let's focus on sorting this bin, then we'll break out into teams."

The POstables busied themselves with stacks of letters, reaching for more from the bin until it was completely emptied and all letters were sorted. While everyone was occupied with their stack of letters, Shane had slipped the package with the flash drive out of the "Indecipherable" bin and placed it under her desk for safekeeping. Mia picked up the bin of letters needing technical support and attempted to hand it off to Shane. She reached for the bin but Oliver quickly intervened.

Mia raised her eyebrows at Oliver as he took the bin from her. "I don't think you are giving your wife enough credit. She seems perfectly capable of handling—"

"Mia," Shane interjected firmly but politely. "Oliver is quite the gentleman and it's one of the many things that I love about him." She flashed a no-nonsense smile at Mia that was synonymous with "end of discussion."

Mia nodded, acknowledging that her opinion on this matter was irrelevant. "Well. Let's make hay while the sun shines!" She turned and pushed the other bin towards Norman and Rita. Norman picked it up and headed into the lab, Rita following closely behind him.

Oliver and Shane worked swiftly at her desk, well aware of Mia's presence in the room as she silently sorted envelopes and packages behind them. A few minutes into their work, Shane grabbed a notepad and a pen. She jotted something down as Oliver silently looked on, puzzled.

_What do you think her story is?_

He thought for a moment, then took the pen from his wife.

_I don't know, but I am certain you will find out. She reminds me a bit of you upon your arrival to the Dead Letter Office._

Shane raised her eyebrows as she took the next envelope from Oliver and typed in some information on her laptop, then returned to the notepad.

_Seriously?!_

Oliver peered at an address through the magnifying glass, then placed the instrument on the desk as he glanced at her note and took command of the pen.

_Well, you weren't wearing a plaid suit, glasses, or your hair in a bun, and you were quite a few years younger. However, you were rather doubtful of our methods as well and gave us a few of the same expressions on your first day as I have seen from her today._

Oliver took the envelope back from Shane and readied it to mail. Shane looked at the next envelope, punched a few keys on her laptop, and unnecessarily said something about her search results just to break the silence.

_I did think you people were crazy, didn't I? LOL_

Oliver gave her a puzzled expression and glanced back briefly at Mia, who was still engrossed in her pile of envelopes.

_What is LOL?_

Shane chuckled as she took the pen from Oliver once more.

_Sorry! I forgot that I'm not texting and that you aren't familiar with such acronyms. It means "laughing out loud."_

He raised an eyebrow.

_Oh. But you aren't laughing out loud._

_Not yet. But I'm about to._

Shane was straining to keep a straight face as she looked back at the computer and tried to focus on another address. She and Oliver had written letters to each other, but she could not recall a time when they wrote secret notes to each other in such a fashion, in real time.

_Keep it together, McInerney, or she'll be onto us._

His affectionate use of her maiden name evoked a smile from her.

_I'm doing my very best, O'Toole. I'm about to have to take a break._

_Are you feeling okay?_

Shane's heart warmed at her husband's concern.

_I'm fine right now._

_You can't leave me alone in here with her._

_You can't follow me into the restroom again._

Oliver grinned and took the pen once more.

_LOL_

Shane stifled laughter at Oliver's use of the acronym and could not wipe the grin off her face. She realized that this might be the closest they would ever come to "texting" each other, and she decided she liked it very much.

_I love you, my Shane._

_And I love you, Oliver._

No, she didn't just like it—she loved it. She bit her lip as she hoped there would be many more opportunities in the coming days to write each other in secret. Oliver squeezed her hand, fighting the urge to give his wife a kiss. She smiled at him knowingly and hesitantly stood from her desk, tore off the piece of notepad paper they had shared, then folded it and placed it in her purse.

"I'm going to take a restroom break," she announced. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

"I reckon that's all right, but don't dilly dally," Mia responded, not looking up. "This mail's not going to deliver itself."

Shane made a face at their guest and Oliver shot a warning glance at his wife, in spite of his amusement. She turned and headed out of the DLO, just as Rita exited the lab.

"Rita!" Oliver seemed relieved. "How are things going in there?"

"Well, we've managed to recover several addresses, thanks to Norman's latest special revelation solution!" Rita exclaimed.

"Norman's what?" Mia piped up, looking away from the envelope in hand.

"Oh, Norman is just amazing with chemicals. He recently came up with this solution that works more often than not." Rita beamed then chuckled forcefully as she remembered Mia's subtle advances earlier. "So proud that he's _my_ husband!"

"He is an extraordinary gift to this team," Oliver agreed with a smile.

"Thank you, Oliver," Rita said sincerely, then looked around for her friend. "Where's Shane?"

"Oh, she took a restroom break," Oliver informed her.

"I think that's a good idea right about now." Rita chuckled and walked toward the door.

"I'd like to see this 'solution' you were talking about," Mia spoke up.

"Oh!" Rita halted and turned around. Her face contorted and she looked to Oliver for help.

"Well, let's step into the lab and take a look at this marvel, shall we?" Oliver suggested.

Rita's expression of relief sent silent gratitude to her section leader and he cast her a knowing smile.

"Take your time, Rita. We'll be here when you get back."

"Yes, take your time, hon," Mia stated, still looking at the envelopes before her. "We'll manage just fine without you."

Rita made a face that mimicked Shane's a few moments prior and turned quickly on her heels to leave the office before she said something she would regret. For Norman's sake—and possibly Mia's as well—they were going to have to keep a close eye on their guest.

The team and their temporary force to be reckoned with did make hay while the sun was shining, as Mia had suggested. Her terseness did not ease up by the end of the day—it was clear she had a chip or two on her shoulder—but much was accomplished regardless. They made their way through a few large bins, putting back about one-fifth of the correspondence as indecipherable. Many of the addresses had been quick fixes, easily solved by using the partial info remaining on the envelopes and the online address database. The lab work was successful as well, with most of the illegible addresses being clearly revealed with chemical solutions or by physically piecing torn parts together.

At exactly five o'clock, Oliver blew the proverbial whistle as they were sorting and announced that they would pick up where they left off the next morning.

Mia once again looked at him skeptically. "We're almost finished with this bin. How about a little overtime?"

"No," Oliver replied firmly. "There will be no overtime. We all need to rest and start fresh again tomorrow." He smiled. "Tonight is our Wednesday night service at church. You are welcome to come along if you'd like."

Shane's eyes grew wide at her husband's suggestion and she forced a smile.

"I do appreciate the invite, but I think I will get settled into my hotel room at the Brown Palace." Mia seemed sincere and suddenly weary.

Shane furrowed her brows. "Wait—you haven't even been to the hotel yet?"

"Nope. Caught a very early flight this morning and then took a cab straight here."

"You must be exhausted," Norman stated.

"I'll survive." She looked around the room and back at the four POstables. "Well, I think we are off to a mighty fine start with this overflow. It was real nice meetin' y'all. I'll be back bright and early in the mornin'."

"Have a good night, Mia," Shane told her, and the others echoed her sentiments.

"Good night, y'all." Mia retrieved her rolling bags and left the DLO. The POstables stood in silence for several moments. Finally Oliver spoke up.

"I appreciate you all, and especially your acceptance of Ms. Landers today. There is a saying—'Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind. Always.' You are living up to this quote quite well, as challenging as it may be, and that makes me both proud and grateful. We might not have a letter mystery to solve at this time, but perhaps we have a live mystery working amongst us."


	6. Chapter 6

**_Ten years earlier_**

"This is not a good idea at all."

"That's _your_ opinion!" Kayla put one hand on her hip, the other one propped against the kitchen counter.

"Look, I know you're still dealing with heartbreak, and it's understandable. Maybe if you keep going to ther—"

"No! This is my calling, Jack, and I can't stop thinking about it. Maybe the accident led me here, but this is _not_ about my grief."

Jack sighed. "What you are considering is way too dangerous. This is real life, Kayla—not some television show. You could get seriously hurt or even worse..." He eyed her solemnly as he let the words linger between them.

"You know what, Jack? Maybe you're the one who should stick to therapy. You've been keeping us all in your little bubble of protection. You're allowed to do that with the twins, but I am _done_ being under your watchful eye."

Kayla marched off to the bedroom, Jack wordlessly following behind her. She grabbed her suitcases and began to quickly fill them with clothes and a few personal belongings.

"What are you doing?" Jack stood in the doorway, stunned.

"What does it look like?"

"You're leaving. You're leaving me to raise the kids by myself?!"

"Jack, you won't be by yourself for long. And you have plenty of money. Hire someone to help."

"Hire someone to help. Okay, that's just—" Jack threw his hands up in the air. "They've already suffered a terrible loss. And you're just going to walk out on them?"

Kayla paused and glared at Jack. "Now you're being manipulative. I won't allow you to make me feel guilty."

"Manipulative?! No," he said with a sarcastic chuckle. "I'm being the reasonable one here."

"You know what, Jack? You don't get to decide what's reasonable for me. You've been making all the decisions and now _I'm _finally making one. This is _my_ life to live—I almost lost it once and I won't let you strip it away from me either."

"Kayla, please, just give it some time. Think about it for a while before—"

"Time's up, Jack. I've been 'thinking' for two years and nothing's changed—until now. You're moving on and so am I. It doesn't make sense for me to stay."

Jack opened his mouth, then closed it in defeat. Kayla glanced around the room one last time. She had everything she needed—anything else was just stuff that could be easily replaced. She looked back at Jack for a few seconds, her heart aching at what she was about to do. It was a major step, but it was a necessary one.

"Tell Levi and Leah that I love them."

And with that final statement—and no goodbyes—Kayla carried her belongings out the door. She didn't dare to look back.

* * *

"Right this way, please."

Shane followed the hostess as Oliver walked slightly behind his wife, his hand on the small of her back. She had dressed in a purple sleeveless dress and two-inch heels to match, despite Oliver's objections.

"I can handle the heels tonight, Oliver," she had assured him, fighting to keep from rolling her eyes. "My center of gravity has not shifted just yet, and I promise not to fall."

"How can you promise that?" he had inquired, knitting his brows in worry.

"Because If I start to fall, I have no doubt you'll be right there to catch me before I actually do," Shane had told him with confidence, although Oliver detected a bit of snarkiness in her reply. "Besides, you know I like to be a little closer to you in height."

And she was much closer to his height in her heels. When they danced, the added two inches made it much easier to converse, to gaze at one another, to kiss. But Oliver couldn't help but view the shoes as a complete hazard now.

Shane slid into the booth at Donatello's as Oliver watchfully stood beside her, then he took his place directly across from her.

"Would you like a bottle of wine this evening?"

"Just water, please," Oliver responded to the hostess with a polite nod as Shane gave him a questioning look.

The hostess smiled and handed them menus. "Your server will be right with you."

They thanked her and she walked back to the front of the restaurant.

"Oliver, if you want wine, please don't hold back on account of me."

"Shane," Oliver addressed her with a slight smile. "We are in this together."

Shane knit her brow. "But Oli—"

"Shane." Oliver's voice was firm yet gentle.

Shane smiled softly back at him, not wanting to ruin the evening by starting a silly and unnecessary argument. "Okay."

As they began to peruse the lengthy list of pastas and other Italian dishes, their server appeared. She greeted them as she set a glass of water in front of each of them and a small plate of lemons in between, then scurried to assist other diners.

The couple had been seated at a table in the back corner of the restaurant, the nearest patrons sitting a few tables away. The lights were dim and a candle glowed peacefully between them. Oliver's gaze drifted from the menu and settled on Shane's face as she studied her dinner options. His heart always warmed at the knowledge that she belonged with him, and now it nearly burst at the realization that she was physically carrying a part of him. Her face glowed as she looked up at her husband and smiled.

"You are absolutely stunning in that dress, Shane," Oliver told her.

"Why, thank you, Oliver," Shane replied, turning slightly pink at his compliment.

"Perhaps you should wear purple more often."

Shane reached up and touched her necklace, fingering the purple bead. "I'll remember that the next time I go clothes shopping...which might not be too far in the future, actually."

The server returned and took their orders, then walked quickly away toward the kitchen.

"I suppose shopping for a maternity wardrobe is something you and Rita can do together."

"Yes! That will be fun. Although, I'm not quite sure I'm looking forward to actually growing into the clothes."

Oliver shook his head sincerely. "You'll be beautiful, sweetheart."

She smiled and narrowed her eyes playfully. "I hope so. Otherwise you might be distracted by another blond worker at the DLO who reminds you of the old me." She sighed exaggeratedly.

Oliver laughed. "Never. Besides, she's much more...uptight...than you were. I believe you are right about her. I'm sensing there's a story there."

"Well, everyone has a story." Shane raised her eyebrows. "Some are just a little more mysterious than others."

"And you intend to uncover hers?" Oliver raised his eyebrows back at her.

Shane shrugged her shoulders and then crinkled her nose at him. "You know me! Nosy and stubborn."

Oliver chuckled at her expression. "I prefer to think of you as inquisitive and tenacious—two charming qualities that attracted me to you on this very day, nearly a decade ago."

Shane grinned from ear to ear. "Well, I suppose that is a matter of perspective dependent on the circumstances. When we're out celebrating a special day, I'm inquisitive and tenacious. But just admit it, when we have our disagreeable moments, I'm nosy and stubborn." She squinted her eyes at him with a sly pucker of her lips.

Oliver licked his lips as he pondered her statement, amused by her adorable expression.

"I suppose there could be some truth to that, when emotions run high. Do you know, though, what you always are, no matter the circumstances?"

"What?"

"Extremely loved." Oliver reached across the table to take her hand as she blew out an emotional breath.

"That is my saving grace. And yours too, by the way," she teased with a chuckle, lightening the mood.

"Of course." He grinned at her. "There is a certain comfort in being imperfect but perfectly loved."

"Yes, there certainly is," Shane agreed, raising her glass of water to her lips. She took a sip and placed the glass back on the table, biting her lip, deep in thought.

"Uh-oh."

"What?" Shane snapped her head up and quickly returned to the present moment.

"I know that look."

"What look?" Shane asked.

"It's the 'I want to do something but Oliver wouldn't approve' look."

Shane laughed forcefully. "What are you talking about?"

"Or worse, it could be the 'I've already done something of which Oliver wouldn't approve' look."

Shane twisted her mouth as she looked at him.

"Shane." Oliver let out a quick sigh. "What did you do?"

"I took the flash drive," she responded immediately, without hesitation, then grimaced.

Oliver shot her a look of disapproval. "You took...the flash drive."

"It's still in the DLO. It's just not in the 'Indecipherable' bin. It's safely tucked away at my desk and well, I haven't done anything more with it yet."

"Yet." He narrowed his eyes at her.

Shane sighed. "I can't stop thinking about it."

Oliver took his turn to sigh once more and let go of her hand. "Shane—"

"Oliver, a family was separated and now, Kayla's gone. They need closure. Whatever it is she wanted to tell them could be something they really need to know."

"Shane, you know the rules right now. We can't spend excessive time on a single piece of correspondence. In fact, we have no time to spare. This has to be put on the back burner for the time being and I really don't want to argue with you again—especially not tonight."

"Okay."

"Okay? That's it?" Oliver looked at her incredulously.

"The flash drive is on the back burner." She held up her hands in mock surrender. "But do I have your permission to do a little research on our temporary sidekick?"

Oliver shook his head with a chuckle. "I suppose work has been a bit too mundane for you these last couple of days?"

Shane tilted her head and held up her hand, fingers clenched in a fist, while extending her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "Just a little."

Oliver nodded with an amused grin, then his expression grew serious as he spoke. "I would prefer that we work with our new colleague a little longer before searching for any skeletons in her closet. I do realize that she is a bit overbearing and no doubt, a rather challenging individual with whom we have been assigned to collaborate. However, she had some ingenious ideas today and I must admit, her method was quite efficient."

Shane nodded. "She seemed unfazed by our workload. She must be accustomed to working under pressure."

"That is true. I wonder what kinds of issues they've had in the Atlanta branch."

"Maybe she'll share some stories with us sometime—if we can convince her that chatting while working is acceptable."

"Perhaps. I am hoping, though, that Ms. Landers will only be here a few more days—just long enough to get us caught up with our current load."

"But what if the bins don't stop coming? Oliver, we received two more large bins this morning."

"They'll have to slow down at some point, and I'm praying that it is soon. And once we're caught up, we should be able to manage on our own."

"That will be so nice to go back to the way things—" A figure caught Shane's eye and she smiled in surprise as she recognized her father-in-law walking toward their booth.

"Hey, hey!"

"Dad!" Oliver said, turning to look at Joe as he approached.

Shane smiled. "Hi there! Would you like to join us?"

"Oh, that's okay. I was waiting on a to-go order and saw you two sitting back here. I was trying to determine if it would be ruder of me to barge in or not say hello at all."

"You're never intruding," Shane told him.

"At least sit for a few minutes." Oliver slid over in the booth toward the wall and Joe sat down beside him.

"I thought you would be at the church tonight."

"Oh, we were," Oliver replied. "We came here directly after the prayer service ended."

"Ah. How are you, Shane?" Joe inquired, eyeing his daughter-in-law.

"I'm doing very well, thank you. Your son has been doting on me."

"Glad to know he's been attentive," Joe said with a chuckle.

"Oh, he has definitely been attentive." Shane raised her eyebrows and hid her face behind the water glass as she took another sip. Joe knit his brow and grimaced intuitively. Judging by the little he had witnessed a few nights ago, a talk with his only son might be in order—but now was not the time. He decided to change the subject.

"How are things at work? Did you solve your issue with the excessive mail?"

"We are...working on it," Oliver informed his dad. "In fact, we have a new team member to assist us in the task."

Joe looked at Oliver incredulously. "Wait, what? Someone else is working in the DLO with the four of you?"

"Temporarily."

"I bet that makes things...interesting."

"Oh it does," Shane interjected.

"But is it helping? I guess that's the main thing."

"I suppose so," Shane admitted with a sigh.

"It is," Oliver affirmed. "We managed to get through several bins today. We're only working with the extremities of the dead letters, so there is no story to investigate."

"I see. That sounds—"

"Boring?" Shane asked. "It is. I almost fell asleep a few times today. But Mia has a way of keeping me on my toes."

"Mia?"

"That's our help," Oliver explained. "An expert from the Atlanta Mail Recovery Center."

"She's something else. Half the time I can't understand her. She has plenty of Southern sayings, doesn't she, Oliver?"

"She does," Oliver replied thoughtfully. "More than we could...shake a stick at."

Shane erupted in laughter and Joe chuckled along with her.

"Why Oliver O'Toole," Shane said in a southern voice. "I never dreamed you would fancy a saying with a preposition dangling at the end of it."

They laughed again.

"I'm happy to see that you two are doing okay," Joe said.

"What...do you mean?" Oliver inquired.

"Well, I ran into the Dormans last night and they told me that yesterday was...well...a rough day."

"It was, but we worked through it," Oliver explained. "We always do."

"And today is our coffee cart anniversary!" Shane clasped her hands together with a grin.

"Coffee cart—what?" Joe appeared confused.

"Shane and I met nine years ago today at the coffee cart."

"Oh, wow! So you're celebrating?"

"We are," Oliver said.

"Well, happy 'coffee cart' anniversary! I suppose I am crashing the party," Joe said.

"No, no, not at all," Shane assured him. "By the way, Oliver and I had discussed having dinner with you sometime this weekend, if you're free?"

"I'm actually going to a concert on Friday night, but Saturday is wide open. You want to shoot for then?"

"That sounds great, Dad," Oliver replied.

"Yes! It's a date," Shane said cheerily.

"Mr. O'Toole?"

Joe and Oliver both turned toward the server.

"Here is your to-go order. I hope you enjoy!"

"Thank you very much," Joe told the server as he stood and took the bag. He turned back to Oliver and Shane. "I'm going to head home. Please let me know if you need anything at all."

Oliver smiled. "Thanks, Dad."

"I mean it." He looked at Shane pointedly and she smiled warmly at his concern. "What else are retired fathers good for? You two enjoy your evening. I'll see you soon, I'm sure."

They exchanged good-byes and Joe exited the restaurant. Shortly afterwards, their food was served.

"Have I ever mentioned how much I love your dad?" Shane asked, twirling pasta around her fork.

"I believe you have actually—a couple of times." Oliver grinned.

"This baby is going to be so blessed to have him for a grandfather."

"Now there's an excellent dinner conversation topic for this celebratory evening. Our baby." Even as Oliver spoke the words, they felt foreign to him. He and Shane had had a few opportunities over the last few days to discuss the much-anticipated newest member of their family, but it still seemed surreal.

"I love to hear you say that!" Shane exclaimed.

Oliver grinned. "These work matters will, uh, work themselves out, but you and our baby are more important to me than anything. I don't want you to stress at all. I'm here to do whatever I can to take the load off you."

"I appreciate that, Oliver. I really do." Shane paused and sighed. "But I don't need to be fussed over. And I don't want you to worry."

"I don't know if I can promise you that. And we both know that I am not in the habit of making promises I can't keep."

"You are _always _the gentleman." Shane beamed at her husband.

After lengthy, enjoyable conversation and dining, Oliver smiled and took a deep breath, gazing at Shane.

"What?" she questioned.

"How was your food?"

"It was delicious and I am stuffed."

"And are you feeling okay?" Oliver asked as he retrieved his pocket watch.

"Oliver, I am fine!"

Oliver checked the time and slipped the watch back into his pocket. "I'm thinking I should take you home now. You need your rest."

"Oliver, no," Shane laughed at his serious tone. "What are you talking about? I'm perfectly fine. And I'm not ready to stop celebrating yet." She pouted playfully.

"What makes you think that going home would end our celebration?" Oliver winked at his wife, and his boyish charm sent a shiver down her spine. "I just want to spend some time alone with my wife before the evening slips away."

"You will get no argument from me, Mr. O'Toole."

"Good," Oliver responded. "Then shall we go home, my dear?"

Shane nodded happily.

Oliver paid the check, then led his bride out of the restaurant and home—to their safe haven—to enjoy the last few hours commemorating this special date. A few years prior, they had been complete strangers at a coffee cart. Now, they were blissfully building a family.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Dear Readers ~**_

_**Thank you for your thoughts and prayers for me after the loss of my brother a few months ago. I have not felt much like writing but hope to get that spark back soon. I appreciate your patience and hope that you enjoy this next chapter. Thanks again for your continued support! It means so much!**_

_**POstable1231**_

Thursday, June 23, 2022

Shane glanced mischievously around the DLO. Oliver had just left for a department meeting, although reluctantly, and Mia strangely had insisted on accompanying him, stating that she wanted more insight on how the Denver branch was run. Norman and Rita had also just left the office to run an errand, and Shane was now alone with mounds and mounds of undeliverable mail. Reasoning that she hadn't yet taken a break this morning, Shane approached her desk and located Kayla's package with the flash drive tucked away inside.

Over the past two days, curiosity had continued to tug at Shane, and this was the first opportunity she had to investigate further. She bit her lip as she stared at the package. She had cleared her conscience by confessing her act to Oliver at dinner the night before, and he hadn't specifically instructed her to refrain from further investigation—or so she rationalized. Shane slipped the drive out of the envelope and plugged it in her computer, pulling up the video file as quickly as she could.

She bit her lip again and hesitated as her cursor hovered over the play button, her finger an inch above the left mouse button. Would this satisfy her curiosity or simply intensify it? Would it answer her questions or raise new ones? Shane sighed and closed her eyes for a second, then before she could think once more about it, she clicked the mouse to start the video.

Furrowing her brows, she stared at the scene before her and then groaned.

"Oh no, no, no, no, no, no, no..." she muttered just above her breath as the window flickered and froze in a repeating pattern.

She could barely detect a person sitting in front of the camera and couldn't hear a thing. How on earth would she use the video to determine the sender? She was about to stop the video and try again when she heard a muffled sound. She leaned in closer and listened carefully for a few seconds before she was able to confirm that the person in front of the camera was talking, yet the audio was sluggish and not easily understood due to the condition of the file.

Shane was torn between listening and watching. It was a definite struggle to do both, and she quickly decided to focus on what she could hear, as it would probably yield more information. She started at the beginning once more, forcing her curious eyes away from the distorted video. Shane looked to the unentertaining floor as she concentrated on listening.

"Heeeyyy Jaaaaack."

Shane blew out a breath. This is going to be loads of fun. Her impatience and curiosity were already at war with each other. Which would win this battle?

It took a solid thirty seconds just to hear and decipher the first sentence. "First of all, I'm sorry for runnin' off like I did."

"Oh come on!" Shane shouted as the speaker paused. "My baby will have his first Dark of Night Award before I can get through this."

Shane fidgeted but continued to listen carefully. It was a good thing that Oliver's meeting would likely last at least an hour, as there were several items listed on the agenda. Norman and Rita's errand was not too close by, so Shane was confident that she would remain in solitude for a while.

"You didn't deserve that—and neither did Levi and Leah. But you really didn't need me, and the kids didn't need me either. You were doing an amazing job with them—I know you still are and always will. I have a confession to make. I've kept up with y'all—from a distance—and you seem like one happy family. I don't wanna do anything to mess that up. And you and Dana are the perfect match. I know the whole situation wasn't ideal, but she has really stepped up to be a fantastic mom to the twins."

Shane paused the video, partly to take a break but also to catch a glimpse of the speaker. It must be Kayla, the one who had written the short note included on the drive. Shane could make out long, dark hair and what appeared to be feminine features, although a sweatshirt hid much of the person's build.

The speaker stopped and took a deep breath—which was exaggerated by the audio lag and quite annoying to Shane—then finally continued.

"The truth is, I didn't really want to leave, but I didn't feel like I was fulfilling my purpose there. You were handling everything and wouldn't let me contribute or make any decisions—even in regards to my own life. I was smothered by your overprotectiveness after the accident. I know you meant well. We lost a lot that summer, and you were scared to lose anyone else, but I just couldn't keep living like that. I desperately needed my independence and that is the one thing you couldn't handle."

At times, the audio began to clear up some, but not enough for Shane to hear how the speaker's voice would sound normally.

"I accepted the investigative position I was offered on the force in Fayetteville, but I actually didn't stay there for long. I'm now working for a government agency in D.C., and every day brings me an amazing sense of fulfillment. More often than not, we catch the bad guys, and yes, I'm out there in the field, not sitting behind a desk. It is considered dangerous work, but I'm doing what I love and feel that I am a small part of making a real difference in this world.

"I realize now that you acted the way you did out of love for me. But I couldn't see that then—I was only angry at you for treating me like a child. Over time, that anger turned into regret, but then pride has kept me from coming back. I do miss you and I have never stopped loving you. I've prayed and prayed that somehow we could mend our fences before it was too late, and I guess now it is, if you're watching this.

"I truly am sorry, Jack. I'm sending this to you because I can't handle the thought of leaving this life with things left unsaid. We have a dangerous mission ahead of us, and honestly, the possible outcomes are beyond terrifying. If I don't make it out, please know that it will be because I'm fighting trying to save someone else from going through senseless loss like we experienced."

Kayla—Shane felt certain at this point that she was the speaker—paused a few moments to regain her composure.

"Do me a favor and hug Levi and Leah for me, every day. Let them know that I am proud of them and that I will always love them, too. They might never understand my decisions, but I hope things are a little clearer to you now.

"You know I refuse to say goodbye and why, so I will simply say I'll see you later. And, I love you."

Shane sat shell-shocked as the tears that had been threatening the corners of her eyes began to roll. This was definitely not something that needed to be sitting on the back burner. It was a final message from a broken-hearted woman to her family. They had to receive this, and the sooner the better. Shane made a mental promise to woman and the family she left behind. There must be closure.

Shane safely ejected the drive and returned it to the indecipherable package. She tried to dry her tears, but she was an emotional wreck and the sobs just wouldn't stop.

She then attempted to distract herself and focus on another piece of mail, but it was no use. The video had pulled at her heartstrings and she wasn't likely to forget it any time soon. Deciding she needed some serious chocolate, she grabbed her purse and rummaged for some change. Not finding enough for the vending machine, she ended up behind Oliver's desk and opened the top center drawer. She found a few quarters underneath a slip of paper. Curiosity got the best of her once more, and she pulled out the paper from the drawer, immediately recognizing Oliver's handwriting.

She furrowed her brows as she read his list. A smile crept up on her face, yet the tears continued to fall.

* * *

The sun was setting as Shane curled up on the couch and began to fiddle with her phone. Oliver leisurely entered the room, coffee in hand, and took a seat next to his wife. Shane eyed him quizzically. Oliver responded by raising an eyebrow in question.

"You're pushing it, O'Toole."

"I beg your pardon?"

"If you don't leave now, you'll be late for choir practice. Don't worry about me. I'm not going anywhere," Shane patted his leg and smiled.

"Oh! Well, neither am I," Oliver stated matter-of-factly, then took a sip of his coffee.

Shane knit her brow and began to check her phone. "Did they cancel practice tonight?"

"I don't suppose so. Did you get an email that it was canceled?"

"No, it's still on the schedule." Shane cast her husband a frustrated look. "Oliver, what are you doing? You never miss practice. You love choir."

Oliver's mouth turned up in a slight grin. "I love you more."

"What?" Shane chuckled. "Oliver, you have got to be kidding me. I'll be here when you get back. Now go!"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I am not comfortable leaving you home alone for a couple of hours."

"Are you serious right now? I'm a big girl, Oliver. I've handled choir nights practically every week since we've been married. I can do this. Nothing has changed."

"Yes, it has." Oliver's jaw was set firmly and his serious gaze told Shane that he was not joking one bit.

"Okay." Shane licked her lips and sighed in defeat, then stood up from the sofa.

"Where are you going?" Oliver asked, quickly setting his cup on a coaster on the coffee table and standing, placing a hand on Shane's arm.

"I'm tired, Oliver. I think I'm going to turn in early."

"Uh, okay." He looked at her, concern etched in his features. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Shane gave her husband a small smile and kissed him on the cheek.

"No, I'm fine, Oliver."

Oliver wrapped his wife in a loving embrace. "I love you, Shane."

"I love you, too."

Shane stepped back and headed for the bedroom as Oliver eyed her. When she reached the doorframe, she turned around once more.

"Oh, and Oliver, I really do appreciate your concern."

Oliver nodded solemnly as his wife turned around again and disappeared into the hallway.

* * *

"He's driving me crazy!" Shane hissed in a whisper.

Joe chuckled on the other end of the phone line. "I'm sorry, Shane, but I'm not surprised one bit. You know he's only acting this way because he loves you. I imagine he feels a greater responsibility for you these days."

"But I'm still capable of handling things on my own. I don't need all the extra help and I definitely don't need a babysitter." Shane stood in the master bathroom and spoke as quietly and clearly as she could, hoping Oliver wouldn't overhear her conversation with his father.

"I understand. You know, believe it or not, I reacted similarly when we found out Oliver's mom was expecting him." Joe sighed.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure it would do much good, but do you want me to talk to him about it?"

"That would be terrific. I certainly can't reason with him myself. Maybe he'll listen to you, you know, since you've been there before."

"I will do my best. I'm actually not far from you guys at the moment. Okay if I drop by in a minute?"

"Absolutely. Thanks, Dad."

"Anytime, kiddo. Try not to stress. You definitely don't need—"

"I assure you, I'm fine! You know, maybe he gets this from you..."

Shane chuckled along with her father-in-law.

"We just care about you, Shane. Please remember that although he seems overbearing right now, Oliver has the best intentions when it comes to you. He's just navigating unchartered territory. You both are. You might want to meet each other somewhere in the middle... I know it's not easy, but try to let him take care of you a little more right now. I'm sure it would make him feel like he's doing something worthwhile, since there's really not much else he can do for the time being."

Realization washed over Shane and she nodded in agreement, although Joe couldn't see her. She sighed and smiled. "You are a wise man, Joseph O'Toole. Thank you for that."

"Hey, I'm not sure it's wisdom as much as it is simply experience." Joe chuckled as he slowed his truck to a stop. "I'm in front of your house now. I'll deliver my speech and send Ollie directly to his choir practice."

* * *

Oliver sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. When his father had unexpectedly shown up at the younger O'Toole's doorstep, Oliver had been blindsided and was practically whisked away in a flurry of commotion by his wife and dad. Joe was now driving his son to choir practice as if he were a child not capable of driving himself to extracurricular activities.

"What are we doing?" Oliver spoke up, glaring at Joe.

"What do you mean? I'm taking you to choir practice. Don't worry. I'll do a little reading and then drive you back home when you're done."

"I meant why are you doing this? You suddenly show up at my house, just in time to take me to choir practice? I could have driven myself, you know."

"Yes, but would you have?"

"I, uh, I had planned to stay in this evening. But you and Shane together, well, you're pretty insistent. That was some teamwork back there, not to mention the timing was impeccable and—"

Joe raised his eyebrows but kept his gaze on the road ahead.

"She called you," Oliver stated, realizing that his father's sudden interference was not merely coincidental.

"Look, Ollie. Just tell me why you don't want to leave her home alone tonight."

"Because I'm not there?"

Joe laughed and glanced at his son. "That sounds a bit redundant, don't you think?"

Oliver shrugged his shoulders and stared straight ahead.

"Okay," Joe pressed. "Why are you struggling to leave her home for a couple of hours, without you there with her?"

Oliver sighed again. "It—it just doesn't feel right. She shouldn't ever have to be alone, in her condition."

"You know, she's probably not going to break while you're gone."

"Statistically, that might be true, but I just don't think that she should be by herself."

Joe nodded and was silent for a few moments. "What are you afraid of, son?"

Oliver forced a chuckle. "What am I afraid of? Let's see. What if something goes wrong and she has a medical emergency and I'm not there to help? Hmm? Or what if she gets sick again? Or worse—what if she gets dizzy and passes out or slips and falls and injures herself and she can't get to a phone? What if she needs something off the top shelf and won't wait for me to get it for her?" Oliver put his hand to his forehead in exasperation. "My goodness, I should have moved everything within reach before I left. And heaven forbid, what if someone else breaks in while I'm singing and I'm not there to defend—"

Joe let out a whistle in response to his son's confession of fears. "Oliver, I get it. You're an anxious new dad. But you have to believe Shane and your baby are going to be fine. You can't spend the next nine months worrying about what-ifs. You of all people know that. You've gotta hand it over."

Oliver took a deep breath. "I'm really struggling with that right now, Dad."

"I know, son. And I don't blame you one bit. Becoming a father...it can turn your whole world upside down. Shane has a lot on her right now, but so do you. It's a big adjustment for both of you. She'll come to appreciate that you love her enough to be concerned and more attentive, but you don't have to hold the reigns so tight. Find that balance. Let her know that you're there for her but let her have some breathing room, too. We both know that Shane's a strong woman, Oliver. You'll soon realize that this won't weaken her—it will make her even stronger."

Oliver sat quietly, listening to his father's spill.

"Just as I'm sure you always have, pray and trust God to look after her when you can't. Oh, and have faith in Shane, too. She's wise and won't intentionally do anything to cause harm to herself or the baby. You gotta give her a little credit, you know?"

Oliver nodded. "I know what you're saying is true. It's just—this urge—this instinct—is stronger than ever."

"To protect your family?"

"Yes. If anything happens to Shane—to either of them—I'd—" Oliver swallowed past the lump in his throat and fought back tears, but even in the darkness, Joe could see his son's eyes pooling. He laid a hand on Oliver's shoulder.

"Hey, everything's gonna be just fine, Ollie. I know how you feel, because I've been there."

Oliver looked up at his dad, surprised. "You mean you—"

"Yeah, let's just say I might have gone a bit overboard with when I found out about you. I was thrilled at the thought of becoming a dad, but the weight on my shoulders was enough to keep me from sleeping at night." Joe paused. "But then I finally realized that I couldn't control everything. I know your heart, son, and you have the purest intentions. It's admirable that you are this passionate about taking such good care of your family—it just shows how much you love them." Joe smiled. "But you can't be there every second, though, and that's okay. No one is holding you to that standard because God Himself is handling that. So...let Him handle it, okay?"

Oliver pondered for a few moments as Joe pulled the truck to a stop beside the church, then nodded slowly.

"Thank you, Dad. Will you maybe check in with her a couple of times and—"

"Yes, Oliver. I'll be happy to. Now go on to practice! You'll be at home again with her before you know it."

Oliver sighed and got out of the truck, praying the whole way as he entered the church. Joe watched and shook his head with a chuckle before texting Shane.


	8. Chapter 8

"Shane!"

As she stood on the step stool twisting the light bulb into the socket, Shane was startled by her husband's voice—so much so that she slightly lost her balance as she swiftly turned in his direction. She quickly reached down to grab the upper bar of the stool to steady herself, but not before Oliver had rushed to her side. His hands were planted gently but firmly on her waist as he looked up at her with a half worried, half scolding expression, not saying a word.

Shane returned his stare, biting her lip as though she had been caught opening a dead letter without following proper protocol.

Oliver gestured with his head toward the floor and raised his eyebrows. Shane sighed and placed her hands on his shoulders, then he easily moved her from the top of the step stool onto the hardwood floor of the foyer.

Shane was beginning to fume inside. She knew what she was doing. Besides, if it hadn't been for Oliver frantically calling out her name, she wouldn't have stumbled in the first place.

She opened her mouth to defend her actions but was quickly silenced as Oliver pressed his lips to hers. No words were necessary at this point—the way he tenderly kissed her clearly communicated his feelings. There was no anger, only love—and an abundance of it. He completely cherished her and the life they had made together.

Shane was still amazed, even after all these years, how her husband's passion could render her breathless. That man could kiss, and he always did so wholeheartedly.

Her arms intertwined around his neck as she kissed him back. Shane's heart was full and her knees, weak. After a minute or so, their lips parted and they rested their foreheads together as they smiled contentedly.

"Are you okay?" Oliver questioned, breaking their peaceful silence as he pulled back a couple of inches to study her face.

Shane nodded in response. "I'm sorry, Oliver."

"I'm sorry, too," he replied quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I missed you."

"Ahhh, I don't think you were gone long enough to miss me."

"I'm fairly certain I missed you the second I walked out that door." Oliver's eyebrow rose flirtatiously as he tilted his head toward the front entrance.

"Is that so?" Shane grinned.

"Mmm-hmm," he murmured, pulling her closer. "When did you miss me?"

Shane pretended to ponder for a moment. "Definitely when the light bulb went out," she responded with a smirk.

Oliver laughed heartily and rolled his eyes.

"I'll tell you a secret, though," Shane said as she leaned toward his ear and lowered her voice to a whisper. "That light bulb has been out the whole time you were gone."

Oliver searched his wife's eyes so deeply that her heart felt as if it could burst.

"This is what I feared," he said softly.

Shane knit her brow as she came to her senses and attempted to process the meaning behind his words. "It's just a light bulb, Oliver. Easy to replace." She shrugged her shoulders.

"But you, my Shane," Oliver said, holding her even more tightly and kissing her forehead. "You...are not."

Shane paused at the graveness in his voice, although she was touched by his sentiment. "Oliver, I love how much you love me." Her eyes began to water. "And I do really appreciate your concern. But I am okay! And I'm still perfectly capable of doing things like this."

Oliver sighed. "I know you are. But I just...would prefer...that you avoid climbing for the time being."

Shane surprisingly felt no frustration at his request. Joe had been right—Oliver's intentions were honorable, admirable even. "I promise that I will do my very best to stay grounded." She beamed proudly at her husband as she fiddled with his tie. "Does that make you feel any better?"

"It certainly does," Oliver affirmed, his smile expressing satisfaction with her compliance.

Still holding Shane in his left arm, he reached up with his right hand and twisted the bulb slightly, allowing light to flood the space around them.

Shane winced, closing her eyes and looking down. "Oh, wow, that is bright."

"Yes, it is." Oliver grimaced and looked down at her, his head shielding the light from her face. She looked up to meet his gaze once again.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure," Oliver responded, exploring her face with his piercing blue eyes. "I love you, Shane. So much."

"Oh, Oliver," Shane said, her voice quavering slightly as her eyes shimmered. "You're going to make me cry again!"

He chuckled, placing his hand on her neck and caressing her cheek with his thumb. "I think I can handle that. As long as they're happy tears."

"Very," Shane assured him, melting into her husband's embrace. "I love you, Oliver."

* * *

**_Friday, June 24, 2022_**

"Good morning!" Rita greeted her friend cheerily as she slid into the booth across from Shane.

"Hi Rita! How are you feeling?"

"Still pretty normal." Rita sighed and glanced down at her plate full of breakfast foods. "No cravings, no aversions. Nothing!"

"Rita," Shane said with a laugh. "That's great! Maybe you'll be spared this yucky sickness."

"Have you had a rough morning?" Rita inquired.

"That's a bit of an understatement," Shane answered, taking a sip of her ginger ale. "But maybe that was it for the day. Who knows."

"I'm sorry, Shane." Rita eyed her sympathetically.

"Oh, don't be! It's not much fun, but having a good reason to be sick makes it a little easier to handle, you know?"

Rita nodded. "Yeah. That makes perfect sense."

"What is taking the guys so long?" Shane searched the dining area.

"Looks like they're having a meeting."

Shane followed Rita's gaze to find Oliver and Norman standing at the food bar, full plates in hands and engaged in what appeared to be a serious conversation.

"What is all that about? Can't they talk here at the table, with us?"

"My guess is that it's something about work and they don't want to worry us," Rita suggested emphatically.

"You're probably right," Shane said with a sigh. "Why do our husbands think we can't handle anything anymore?"

"Oh! Well, I think they think we can handle stuff. I just think they think that we shouldn't have to. It's kind of sweet actually." Rita shrugged her shoulders.

"Yes, it's sweet—to a degree. But Rita, Joe had to drag Oliver to choir practice last night because he was worried about leaving me home alone."

"Ohhhh," Rita said in a deep voice. "Well, that's...that's...wow."

"Yeah, you know how Oliver feels about choir practice! He never misses. I'm guessing Norman's not such a nervous wreck?"

"Oh, Norman is definitely a nervous wreck—about how to be a good father. I've lost count of the number of parenting books he's bought already. They are all over our house."

"Well, I suppose everyone has their own worries..." Shane's voice trailed off as she glanced at the counter and then quickly away with a grimace. Rita looked to see Mia getting a coffee. "At the risk of sounding like a mean girl, I hope she doesn't try to join us for breakfast. Eight hours a day is more than enough."

Rita chuckled. "I don't think she even saw us. She's leaving now."

"Whew! That was close." Shane pretended to wipe her brow and Rita giggled. "You know, sometimes she reminds me of Andrea."

"Yeah," Rita agreed. "She definitely seems accustomed to taking charge."

"Yes, she does," Shane confirmed. "All business and no play. She's put a real damper in the DLO ever since she got here. I wonder what her deal is..."

"Did you discover anything at all about her?" Rita inquired.

"Well, she's been at the Atlanta branch for about a year—since last June. But the trail ends there. It's like she didn't even exist before coming to work for the postal service. I can't find any general records or social media accounts. Nothing."

"That's odd," Rita commented.

"Very. I want to know her story, but seeing as how she's not exactly the warm, fuzzy type, I doubt she'll share anything with us."

"She might not talk to us. But I bet she'd talk to Norman," Rita huffed, rolling her eyes.

Shane chuckled. "You have nothing to worry about there, Rita. Norman only has eyes for you." She grinned, then thought for a moment. "But you have given me an idea. She does seem to be quite taken by him, so maybe Norman is our best bet..."

"Best bet for what?"

Shane and Rita looked up to find inquisitive stares from their husbands, Norman knitting his forehead.

"Oh! Norman!" Shane chuckled forcefully. "Rita was just telling me about the parenting books you've acquired."

"I've bought a few, yeah."

Rita's eyebrows shot up.

"Yes, well, with your wealth of newfound knowledge, you will undoubtedly be an invaluable resource for us all," Shane told him.

"You know, you sound just like Oliver," Norman remarked as the men slid into the booths beside their wives. "I mean, not your voice. Your voice doesn't sound like Oliver's. I can definitely still tell you apart. Just your words."

Shane giggled. "I'll take that as a compliment. Thank you, Norman."

Oliver beamed. "Oh, here's your toast," he told Shane, sliding the small plate of food toward her. "Are you sure you don't want anything else?"

"I'm positive. Thank you. Dry toast and ginger ale is...lovely. Just hoping it stays down," Shane said. Oliver found her hand under the table, giving it a slight squeeze, and they exchanged knowing smiles.

The couples shared small talk for a few minutes as they ate. Shane's mind began to wander with curiosity and by now, Oliver could read her like a book.

"Uh-oh."

"What?" Shane asked, jarred out of her thoughts.

"There's that look. Again."

Shane made a face. "Well, don't you think she's hiding something?"

"Who? Rita?" Norman glanced at Rita, perplexed.

Rita chortled. "I don't have anything to hide. Well, at least, not from you guys, and certainly not from you, Norman."

"Not Rita, Norman," Shane grinned. "I was referring to Mia."

"Oh. I was starting to think that maybe Rita had another romance novel I didn't know about."

"Oh, Norman," Rita giggled. "I don't need to write it when I can just live it."

It was Norman's turn to beam.

"Shane, I'm just not sure we should get involved in Mia's personal life. She seems rather aloof and she might not take kindly to being under investigation," Oliver stated. "Let's just get these letters handled and once we're on our feet again, she'll be headed back to her position at the Atlanta Mail Recovery Center." He shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly.

"But we have no idea how much longer she'll be here, Oliver. We're receiving more and more dead letter bins every day. I'd just like to get to know our colleague a little better," Shane asserted.

"What she really means is, she's too curious to let this go," Oliver amended, addressing the Dormans.

Norman and Rita laughed as Shane shot an exasperated look at Oliver, who chuckled in response.

"I would advise you to remember, however, that you can catch more flies with honey..."

"Oliver O'Toole, are you calling your new employee a pest?" Shane teased.

"She is not my new employee. She's our temporary help. And I am not calling her a pest. Flies can be useful in their own way," Oliver attempted to explain.

"Uh-huh..." Shane raised her eyebrows.

"All I am saying is that you might discover more by simply befriending her. Our attitudes towards her will go a long way. I am well aware that she's a bit rough around the edges, but as I mentioned before, we are all dealing with something."

They all nodded solemnly in agreement.

"You know, she seems sad," Norman spoke up.

The other POstables stopped and watched Norman intently, waiting for further explanation.

"Norman, go on," Shane prodded.

"Yeah, sad...and lonely. Like she's suffered quite a bit of loss in her lifetime and doesn't know how to cope."

"Norman, that is quite intuitive," Oliver remarked.

"It really is, Norman," Shane agreed. "I had guessed that she's suffered from a breakup that left her cynical about love. She didn't seem too impressed with some of the letter stories I shared with her yesterday. But I didn't think about the possibility of her grieving."

Oliver sighed. "Any kind of loss can make one hesitant to connect with anyone or anything again."

"Maybe that's why she's so distant," Shane added.

"And she's probably covering up her emotions with this tough exterior," Rita commented. "I feel so sad for her."

The POstables sat quietly for a few moments before Oliver spoke up.

"As you know, I believe there are no coincidences. Perhaps Mia was sent here not only to help us, but so that we could be of assistance to her as well."

* * *

About mid-morning, as the POstables were busy rerouting letters, they were startled by Hazel entering the DLO.

"Here you go!" she called out, pushing a cart full of bins. "I helped unload the shipment that was flown in this morning. Sure looks like you got your work cut out for you." She giggled but stopped and cleared her throat as the POstables stared at her with narrow eyes.

"Thank you, Ms. Obacheena," Oliver said gravely.

"Yes, Hazel! Thank you so much," Shane added. Her sarcasm went undetected by their colleague, but Oliver shot his wife a glance of disapproval.

"You're so welcome! These letters have really bit the dust. Some of them are a little more dead than others," Hazel added, grimacing as she used the tips of her thumb and forefinger to pick up a piece of mail that had been badly damaged.

"We'll handle it from here, Hazel," Shane informed her.

"Oh! Of course." Hazel placed the piece of mail back in the bin. "I guess my work here is done. Bye, everyone!"

"Bye, Hazel," the POstables said in unison.

Mia entered from the lab, rolling her eyes at their exchange as Hazel left the DLO.

"I'm gonna take a quick break," Mia announced. She grabbed her cell phone and started for the door, stopping in her tracks when she saw the cart of mail. "Heavens to Betsy! Another load?"

"I'm afraid so," Oliver replied. "But POstables will continue to rise to the challenge, won't we?"

The others voiced their agreement, and Mia nodded.

"I do believe that's our biggest load yet." She sighed. "I'll be back in a few. Holler if you need me."

"Of course," Oliver approved as they watched her scurry out of the office.

"Holler if you need me?" Shane repeated.

Oliver raised his eyebrows.

The phone rang and shook everyone back to reality. Oliver frowned as he picked up the receiver.

"Dead Letter Office, Oliver O'Toole."

A smile spread across Oliver's face as he recognized the voice on the other end of the line.

"Good morning, Rebecca."

The others froze and watched as he listened.

"Things are—well, they are challenging, but I would say that we have made substantial progress."

Shane's eyebrows shot up and she gestured to the newly arrived bins of dead letters. Oliver shrugged his shoulders.

"Yes, she has been a tremendous asset to our team. Output has increased significantly, but uh, well, so has the influx of undeliverable mail. We just received five more bins a few minutes ago."

Shane extended her hand, requesting the phone, but Oliver shook his head at his wife. She reached up and grabbed the receiver from him anyway.

"Hi Becky," Shane greeted her friend as Oliver released an exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm not going to sugar coat it. This is ridiculous. Just when we think we're starting to get caught up, then all of a sudden, bam! Here's another load coming from who-knows-where."

Shane listened intently, the others waiting patiently.

"Of course. Well, we'll keep at it. It's what we do."

Shane said goodbye to Becky and placed the handset back on its base.

"Well?" Rita asked.

"Well, she reminded me that we are the best at what we do and to never give up. She said she could send in more reinforcements if it becomes necessary."

Oliver nodded his head slowly. "We must press on. But first, let's take a mental health break, shall we? Rita, Shane, why don't the two of you step out of the office and get some fresh air? We'll reconvene in about fifteen minutes."

The ladies complied, leaving Oliver and Norman in the DLO.

"So...what now?" Norman asked Oliver.

"I have a theory," Oliver stated confidently.

"Oh happy day?" Norman made a face.

"Well, uh, if I'm right, it won't be much of a happy day, Norman."

* * *

"Oh my goodness, Rita, what are we going to do? The bins just keep on coming."

The ladies walked side by side down the long hallway toward the main entrance of the Denver Post Office.

"I don't know, Shane, but Oliver said that we should take a mental health break for a few minutes," Rita reminded her friend. "So let's try to think of something else for now."

Shane chuckled. "Rita, that never works for me. How can you just not think about our dilemma?"

"Well, there's plenty of other things to think about, like—"

Shane gasped as they rounded the corner of the corridor, pulling Rita back around the corner and toward the wall.

"Shane! What on Earth—"

"Shhh," Shane whispered. "It's Mia."

"So?"

"She's on the phone. And she doesn't look happy." Shane peeked around the corner.

"Ohhhh," Rita replied, her eyebrows furrowed.

They listened as best they could, though Mia's subdued voice wasn't easily understood.

"How many of those bins did our department send to the Denver DLO today? ... Well, that was a bit much, don't you think?"

Shane and Rita exchanged wide-eyed glances.

"I know. I realize you're understaffed right now with me in Denver, but you were only supposed to send two bins! ... Believe me, they're feeling the pressure, so it's definitely working."

Rita gasped and Shane scowled.

"Hold off on any more shipments until I get back to you. ... Yeah, I have no idea how long this is going to take, but I'll head back as soon as the evaluation is complete."

Shane gasped and whispered, "What did I just hear?"

Rita gave Shane a confused look. "What happened to her accent?"

"Come on," Shane whispered. "Just act natural." She grimaced at her directions. Rita had a hard time keeping secrets, let alone acting natural.

Mia had her back to the two as they approached. She ended the call and turned quickly on her heels, almost bumping into Shane.

"Oh! Hi Mia!" Shane greeted their temporary colleague. "We were just going out for some fresh air."

"Not that the DLO's air is bad. It's not stuffy or anything," Rita said quickly with a nervous chuckle. "It's just that well, there's a lot more air outside!"

Shane widened her eyes at Rita.

Mia scoffed and replied in her familiar Southern drawl. "None of us have time for fresh air. In case you haven't noticed, the dead letters keep on comin'. Now I had some official postal business to take care of, but I'm headed back to get busy. I suggest you do the same."

Shane had had just about enough. She was poised to speak up and confront Mia when Rita took Shane by the arm.

"We know we don't have much time to spare," Rita replied pleasantly. "We'll be headed back shortly, right Shane?"

"Yes," Shane said through clenched teeth. "Shortly."

"And we'll get right back to work!" Rita chuckled nervously and pushed up her glasses.

Mia gave them a curt nod and headed back towards their office. Shane and Rita took a few steps in the opposite direction and then stopped, watching their temporary help disappear around the corner.

"You know what this means, don't you?" Shane inquired, then continued when Rita nodded gravely. "Mia Landers is not here to help us. She's trying to sabotage us. But why?"


	9. Chapter 9

Shane and Rita had spent a solid twenty minutes out in the chilly, albeit fresh air discussing their newest dilemma. They finally decided to return to the office and proceed with work as usual until they could break away for lunch. Shane had convinced Rita that this was one secret she must keep—or the very structure of the DLO team could be in jeopardy. It was rare that the POstables needed an upper hand, but in this case, that was not even a question. If Mia knew that the ladies had been privy to her phone conversation, she could very easily devise ways to excuse the truth before all could be revealed.

And it appeared that the truth was simply this: Mia Landers had been ordering bins of dead letters from the Atlanta Mail Recovery Center to be sent to the Denver DLO. Considering Mia's behavior toward the POstables—which was growing less and less friendly every day—and the fact that she knew Oliver was up for inspection soon, it made sense to Shane and Rita that their temporary colleague could be capable of making things even more difficult for them.

On the surface it was reasonable, anyway. However, Shane was not one to accept answers of superficial value. She had to dig deeper. She needed to know why. Why did Mia care one way or another how well the Denver DLO team fared? What difference would it make to her whether they failed or succeeded? In fact, a heavier workload in Denver would delay Mia's return to her home branch. Could it be possible that she was even more miserable in Atlanta than in Denver and preferred to stay away as long as possible? Yet her tone during the phone conversation revealed that she had been upset—almost angry—at the overload they had received from Atlanta today. To make matters even more challenging, the overflow had begun before Mia was temporarily assigned to the Denver DLO. She hadn't yet formed her opinion of the POstables and couldn't possibly have sent any of the early overloads out of spite. Something just wasn't adding up.

As Shane keyed in partial addresses to find matches in the system, she shook her head in exasperation, her blond locks bouncing slightly. Oliver looked at her curiously but didn't interrogate. In fact, he had seemed distracted as well, something clearly holding his mind hostage. Their eyes locked and a silent bit of frustration was exchanged between the couple. In sync, Oliver took out his pocket watch just as Shane stole a glance at her phone. 11:14. Shane's blue eyes drilled into her husband's with a single question in mind, and he easily nodded in response.

Oliver cleared his throat and Mia paused her sorting to look up at him.

"Shane and I are going to take an early lunch," Oliver announced. "It's not necessary for the entire team to follow the same schedule, so feel free to do as you wish."

"Well, I reckon I wish to make progress with this mess, and takin' an hour-long lunch ain't gonna help," Mia retorted.

Just the bitter response Oliver had expected.

"Fine," Oliver replied curtly, attempting to maintain his composure. "I'll just let Norman and Rita know."

As Oliver headed into the lab, Shane gathered up her belongings. She was shrugging into her coat when Mia spoke up again.

"It's a wonder y'all ever get anythin' done. Takin' breaks every time you turn around." Mia huffed and continued her sorting.

Shane bit her lip to keep from saying the first thing that came to mind. After a couple of seconds, she responded with her second choice of words. "The breaks give us the energy we need to continue such monotonous work."

"Monotonous." Mia laughed obnoxiously. "Yet you chose to work in the Dead Letter Office?"

"That's a funny story, actually." Shane grinned despite her Mia's condescending attitude. "I didn't choose the Dead Letter Office."

"It chose her," Oliver said cheerily, returning from the lab. "Or well, more truthfully, the Almighty chose her for the DLO."

Shane smiled at Oliver, then turned back to Mia to explain. "I walked into this building a few years ago looking for Direct Line Operations, but I ended up in another DLO."

Mia raised her eyebrows. "And you're still here."

"I'm still here." Shane licked her lips and took a breath as the Dormans entered from the lab. "Look, I don't know what it's like for you back in Atlanta, but this—this is not the norm for us. Being overloaded with so many letters has somewhat sucked the life right out of our Dead Letter Office." She chuckled dryly. "We're working efficiently and making progress, but that bin over there," Shane said, pointing to the bin of indecipherables, "that bin keeps calling my name. Those are the letters that need a little—or a lot—more rescuing than the others. Those are the ones that have lost all hope on the outside, but when you search within, you'll find the answers. Sometimes not right away, but always at the right time."

Oliver's breath hitched in his throat. It was a riveting moment to hear his wife speak of their profession with such passion. Norman and Rita were likewise awed by her spontaneous speech and listened intently. Shane turned back to gaze into the bin that she and Oliver had been working with, her eyes tearing up against her will.

"I know that these letters are just as important, but they're only slightly broken on the outside. I'm happy to help bandage them up and send them on their way, but I'll never know their stories." Her voice cracked as she swiftly wiped the bothersome moisture from the corner of her eyes. "And I love the stories! They make our work seem more meaningful. I'm really missing that right now."

"I think we all are," Oliver agreed softly, sympathizing with his wife.

"I'm not saying this isn't the best way to handle things at the moment. It's just hard because it's not what we're accustomed to doing around here. We are making a difference, but it's not the same. We're not truly investing ourselves into the lives of others."

Oliver nodded.

Mia sat quietly, absorbing everything Shane had said. There was no crude comeback this time, only a look of sadness mixed with something akin to longing and perhaps regret. The POstables all noticed it, but Mia needed time. She needed to become better acquainted with the Denver team before they could uncover her story. For now, her lips were sealed as tight as an envelope concealing military secrets.

* * *

Oliver drove the gang from the post office to a cafe a few miles away. They had all agreed that distance from the office, from Mia, was much needed. He held Shane's hand for most of the short drive, well aware—and feeling guilty—that all these new circumstances were taking such a toll on her.

The little restaurant was already bustling with the lunch crowd, but the four were seated within only a couple of minutes. They focused on ordering before getting down to business. There was much to discuss, but if they started now, they might become distracted and forget about lunch entirely.

After the waitress scribbled their requests on her notepad and walked away, Oliver looked back and forth between Rita and Shane. "Norman and I have made a bit of a discovery," he stated.

"Oh?" Shane responded, after casting a glance at Rita.

"Yes. And I gather that the two of you have something to share with us as well?" Oliver dipped his head forward, a serious expression lining his face.

"Oh, we doooo," Rita replied in a low voice, stretching out the last word for emphasis.

"And you're not going to believe it," Shane said matter-of-factly.

Oliver sat with one eyebrow up, eager to hear what the girls had to say. "Ladies first."

"Mia is trying to ruin us," Shane spat out.

The other eyebrow rose, joining the first, as Oliver cleared his throat in surprise. "I beg your pardon?"

"Mia," Shane repeated. "She is trying to destroy the POstables."

"And just how is she...doing that?" Oliver's eyebrows were now furrowed.

"By sending all those letters," Shane replied adamantly. "Whole bins of letters. The ones that came in today—they're mostly from—"

"Atlanta."

Shane gasped. "You knew!"

Rita's eyes grew wide as she and Norman exchanged glances.

Oliver nodded. "That was our discovery. I started noticing something peculiar as we've been working through these extra loads. The majority of mailings have been processed in various cities outside of our area and within the jurisdiction of other mail recovery branches. It's not unusual to get a few here and there, especially when it's been determined that the sender or recipient resides in our area. However, as you are well aware, most of what we handle is normally processed closer in proximity to Denver."

"True. I can't believe I didn't think about that!" Shane exclaimed. "So it's not all from Atlanta? Have processing centers across the U.S. been shipping us the dead letters that should have been redirected to their assigned DLOs?"

"My initial theory was that the overflow bins were coming from multiple locations." Oliver glanced at Norman, then back at their wives. "However, after Ms. Obacheena's delivery this morning, our further investigation included examination of the bins and questioning of our postal comrade. It was then that we discovered that all of the bins have actually been flown in from the same location each day for the past week."

"Whoa. So the letters are all coming from the Atlanta Mail Recovery Center?" Rita inquired.

"No, and yes," Norman answered.

"Wait—I'm confused," Shane admitted, her head cocked to one side in questioning.

"We've received a high volume of mail that should have been directed to the St. Paul and San Francisco DLOs, as well as Atlanta," Oliver explained. "These letters were originally processed all over the country."

"But they were flown in from one location?" Rita asked.

"Yep. Oliver and I inspected the bins." Norman stated. "Each one has been stamped with a date of manufacture on the bottom. When the Atlanta branch was remodeled last year, they received brand new bins, while the other branches with DLOs received their replacement bins much earlier."

"Figures." Shane sighed. "We always get stuck with the old stuff."

"You know very well that antiquated does not necessarily mean substandard, Ms. McInerney," Oliver spoke with a smirk.

Shane wrinkled her nose. "We could really use some new bins in Denver."

"The old bins are just fine," Oliver argued, his eyes narrowing with authority.

Rita chuckled awkwardly and spoke up. "You know, I am reeeally curious about where all this was going before you two started discussing the state of our bins!"

"Oh! Right." Shane shook her head. "Sorry. So the bins are all from Atlanta?"

"Yes," Oliver confirmed. "While the bins are from Atlanta, the letters themselves were processed at various branches in Minnesota, California, and Georgia, among other states, then shipped to Atlanta, and finally to our office."

"Our biggest bunch of dead letters so far actually came from Texas," Norman pointed out, holding up a finger.

Rita and Shane blinked their eyes in disbelief.

"I don't understand," Shane spoke up.

"Well, everything's bigger in Texas." Norman nodded resolutely and Rita smiled, turning her head slightly to one side in admiration.

"Not that part, Norman," Shane responded, then focused on her husband. "Why are we getting loads of dead mail from other branches, routed through the Atlanta branch? Nothing like that has ever happened before."

"That is an excellent question." Oliver sighed. "And one to which I do not have an answer."

"So if Mia ordered the loads from Atlanta to come here, she must have somehow directed the other branches to send letters to her office first," Shane pondered.

"And why is it you believe Mia had the loads sent here?" Oliver stared at Shane, awaiting her explanation.

"We heard her on the phone, Oliver," Shane informed him. "She's responsible for this mess we're in."

Rita nodded excessively in agreement.

"And what did she say, exactly?" Oliver pressed.

"Something about they had sent more bins than they should have, that we were feeling the pressure and their plan was working, and to not send any more until she cleared them. And...that she would return once the evaluation had been completed." Shane grimaced and raised her brows at Oliver.

"Oh my goodness," Oliver spoke quietly. "According to Rebecca, Mia is supposed to continue working with us until we get a handle on everything. It sounds like our temporary colleague is trying to ensure that we are overloaded until after evaluations have been conducted."

"Exactly." Shane shook her head in disgust.

Rita looked sadly at Norman, then looked to Oliver and asked, "So what are we going to do?"

"Well, we are going to continue our work as we have done the last several days—tackle the overload as best we can while we wait for the evaluator to show up. And we will pray. We will pray for patience, endurance, and tolerance. It has certainly been quite difficult working alongside a temporary colleague—a bitter one at that—but I imagine now that we are aware of her intentions, it will prove to be even more challenging. I would very much like to give Ms. Landers the benefit of the doubt—"

"But she's not making this easy." Shane gave him a knowing look.

"No, she is not." Oliver took a deep breath.

"Did Becky pinpoint an evaluation date for you?" Shane inquired.

"No. It's supposed to be unannounced. For that reason, and because it's simply the right thing to do, we must proceed as planned and remain as civil as possible to our newest team member."

The others nodded in agreement, but Shane questioned him. "So you don't want to tell Becky what we found out?"

"I prefer to not cast any negative light on anyone. I'm not sure what Mia's motive is for such a scheme, but all will be revealed in due time. And there is also hope that she changes her mind about us and the POstables' mission."

"There's always hope," Shane remarked.

Oliver gazed lovingly at his wife, his head tilted slightly to the side. "Why don't you and Rita take this afternoon off—start your weekend early and get some rest. It has been an extremely long week. I'll drop both of you off at our house, if Rita is agreeable, then bring Norman there after close of business. We all can get a fresh start on Monday."

"Oh, I think that's a great idea!" Norman agreed.

The two women stared at them, dumbfounded and a bit speechless for a couple of seconds.

"We have an excessive amount of dead letters in our office and you're telling us to take the afternoon off?" Shane chuckled dryly. "Oliver, that's not going to set well with Mia. And what if the evaluator shows up and finds out half our crew is missing?"

"I'm not concerned with Mia's opinion regarding your early departure, nor do I believe that an evaluator would appear on a Friday afternoon. We are, however, concerned with your physical and mental health, and I simply believe it's for the best that you not return to the office until next week."

Shane looked at Rita and raised her eyebrows in question. Rita shrugged her shoulders and nodded. Shane turned back to Oliver and rolled her eyes.

"Okay, because I am exhausted and don't have the energy to fight you on this, and because there is no telling what might come out of my mouth if I actually saw Mia again today, I accept your offer."

Oliver smiled, obviously quite pleased.

"But don't get used to it." Shane smirked.

He chuckled. "I appreciate your willingness to oblige me, even if it is just this once. And don't worry at all—we'll handle everything at the office."

"You are good at handling things." Shane raised her eyebrows as he furrowed his, then she laughed joyfully as her blue eyes sparkled.

* * *

An hour later, Shane and Rita were relaxing in the O'Tooles' living room. A movie was playing in the background but they weren't paying attention, chatting instead.

"I'm glad Oliver ended our work week a little early. I'm so tired of looking up addresses."

"I know how you feel. The constant work in the lab is draining. And if Mia flirts with Norman one more time, I'll—I'll—" Rita was becoming noticeably angry.

"You'll what, Rita?" Shane pursed her lips in an attempt to hide her amusement.

"Well, I don't know yet, but something!"

Shane laughed heartily. "I'm sure Norman appreciates her flattery but that's it! Have you talked to him about the situation?"

"I haven't had to. He reassures me every day that Mia is not me."

"See? And he's right. There's only one Rita." Shane smiled and pondered for a moment. "You know, Mia came in quite headstrong. It's as though she held something against us the moment we met her."

"Could it be because our team consists of two married couples? I mean, that's somewhat unusual and maybe she didn't take us seriously to begin with."

"That could be. She does seem irritated with our family-friendly environment. Just wait until she finds out we're both expecting. That will send her for a loop."

"Yeah, I'm not sure we should add that to mix right away."

"Definitely not." Shane paused. "I haven't been able to find anything else about her and I don't know where to start. I could question her colleagues in Atlanta, but that's sure to get back to her. The last thing she needs to know is that I'm investigating her." Shane stopped and sighed, fiddling with the frayed edges of a blanket as Rita's phone buzzed. "I wish I had something else to occupy my mind."

"Check your purse."

"What?" Shane frowned at Rita, who looked up from her phone and shrugged her shoulders.

"Norman just sent me a text. Oliver wants you to check your purse."

"Oookay..." Shane got up and retrieved her handbag from the adjoining kitchen and searched inside the accessory. "I wonder what he could possibly be—"

Shane gasped as she pulled a package out. She recognized it right away. Stuck to the top was a sticky note and in Oliver's handwriting were the words:

_I'm breaking the rules for you, my dear Shane, because you love the stories...and I love you. Not to mention, this one looks like it could certainly use rescuing._

Shane let out the breath she had been holding as she ran her finger across the tiny heart he had drawn beside his initials scribbled at the bottom of the note. She smiled, remembering that when he made her that Valentine before their first whatever-it-was at Montaldo's, his heart was unbalanced. Now, it was completely whole.


	10. Chapter 10

"What is it?"

Rita's voice startled Shane, immediately drawing her out of her thoughts.

"Oh! Well, it looks like Oliver sent some work home with us!" Shane grinned, holding up the damaged package.

"What?" Clearly surprised, Rita tilted her head slightly and her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "He let you smuggle an undeliverable package out of the DLO, without your knowledge? Whoa... And I thought he wanted us to rest!"

"I think he wanted us to get away from the mundane stress at the office, not to mention Mia, considering what we discovered this morning. And, this is basically his way of giving me the green light to further investigate the contents on this flash drive." Shane's blue eyes twinkled with child-like excitement.

"Wait, is that—Kayla's?"

"Mmm-hmm! I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since we read her note." Shane walked over to the counter, retrieved her laptop and notebook from her bag, and returned to the couch. She sat down and carefully pulled the flash drive out of the envelope, then plugged it into her computer. "Want to check this out?"

"Of course!" Rita replied, her tone implying that Shane need not ask. "You know, I'm really surprised that you haven't already taken another look at it."

Shane bit her lip and made a face similar to a child's whose hand was caught in the cookie jar.

Rita gasped at her friend's guilty expression, then exclaimed in a low tone, "You _have_!"

"I had a moment of weakness while you all were out of the office yesterday." Shane spoke rapidly. "I know this was supposed to be on the back burner, but technically I was on a break, so..."

Rita laughed. "You don't have to explain anything to me. I'm not your section leader. And apparently now you have his full approval to proceed."

"Yes!" Shane's smile spread from ear to ear. "Okay, so I transcribed everything and I think it's accurate, but the file has been corrupted and the audio was lagging terribly." She pulled out her notebook, turned a few pages, and handed the scribbled transcript to Rita.

After reading it over, Rita somberly looked up from the written message. "Oh my. That's so sad."

"It's terribly sad. It's pretty obvious that Kayla realized she had made a horrible mistake by walking out on her family the way she did, but then had too much pride to go back. And now, she's not here to fix it. I just cannot imagine 'needing independence' so much that someone would just desert her own children like that!" Shane's eyes misted as she briefly recalled memories of being abandoned by her own father. She shook her head in an attempt to suppress the emotions threatening to overtake her. Now was not the time for such reminiscences. "And her husband. I know she thinks he was being overly protective of her, but it seems like there was a lot of love there. I just don't understand why they couldn't work through it."

"Well, her message was intended for Jack, who has the privilege of knowing the backstory, while we don't. I might sound a little too much like Oliver right now, but..." Rita cleared her throat and lowered her pitch to mimic their section leader. "Ours is not a responsibility to evaluate past behavior or future actions of the parties involved, but to deliver this package as safely and efficiently as possible to the intended recipient or, if necessary, return to the sender."

Shane laughed. "Rita, you always know just what to say and how to say it."

Rita smiled with a slight chuckle. "I try. Now I want to see that video!"

"Okay. If I can even get it to play." Shane clicked the button a few times and finally, the video popped up and began to play, the movements jerky and the quality compromised.

"I have never seen a digital file do this!" Rita exclaimed.

"I know," Shane agreed. "Isn't it strange?"

"It's like an old VHS tape!" Rita remarked. "You remember that one that ended up in the DLO a while back and Norman's cousin helped us by restoring it?"

"I do! Too bad this isn't an analog tape," Shane commented, wrinkling her nose in disappointment.

"Well, actually that cousin is also the one who recorded our wedding and made us digital edited copies. And he's kind of a computer geek too!"

"Oh?" Shane's eyebrows shot up. "Rita...do you think he might know how to restore this file, or at least part of it?"

"I don't want to get your hopes up, but that is exactly what I'm thinking." Rita pondered for a moment. "Why don't you copy the contents to another drive for backup, and then we can take it by his studio."

"That sounds like a plan! I actually have a spare thumb drive in my bag," Shane stated. She placed the laptop on the couch and went back to the kitchen area to get the drive. "Do you know what time his studio closes today?"

"I think it's open until five."

"Okay." Shane sat back down on the couch. "Let me transfer this over—it should only take a couple of minutes—and then we can go. How far away is it?" Shane inserted her drive and clicked a few buttons.

Rita looked up toward the ceiling as she considered the distance. "Uh, about 15 miles from here, I would say."

"Then we should have plenty of time to get this down there and be back before the boys arrive." Shane smiled impishly at Rita, who raised her brows in questioning. "I kid you not, Oliver thinks I should be quarantined to the house unless he can escort me himself. And he wouldn't have been comfortable sending me home this afternoon if you hadn't come with me."

Rita pursed her lips and smiled. "Give him a little more time to adjust, Shane. It hasn't even been a week since he found out."

"That is true. But this week has felt like a year!" Shane sighed. "And every day like a Monday. When I put my head down, I just might sleep through this whole weekend."

"Me too!" Rita admitted. "I'm hoping things calm down soon."

"Let's just pray that Mia will stop this charade and we won't see any more extra dead letters coming in."

"And if she doesn't?"

"It's been a while since Becky and I have had a good chat. I might just call her to 'catch up'." Shane shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.

"Ohhhh. But Oliver—"

"Oliver is being too nice about this," Shane interrupted Rita's protest. "But I won't hesitate to make Mia's actions known to our super, especially with Oliver's evaluation at stake. Besides, what's happening could even be illegal in some way, or at the very least a violation of some company policy."

"It's certainly questionable," Rita conceded.

"I've never seen anything like it, and neither has Oliver in all his years with the postal service. He's been completely blindsided, but I'm afraid that was the point." Shane looked back at the laptop screen. "Oh, it's finished! Let's get going. Ready?"

"Yep. You drive; I'll guide!"

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Shane pulled her car into a parking space on the road in front of Norman's cousin's studio. She and Rita exited the car and walked a few steps to the front door. A neon sign flashing "Morton's Movies" hung on the brick above the glass entrance. Rita opened the door and led the way into the office, Shane following on her heels.

It was quiet—a little too quiet—and no one was in the main room, so Rita yelled out, "Hello? Morton?" She shrugged her shoulders at Shane and whispered loudly, "He's gotta be here. He wouldn't leave his door wide open like that with all the fancy equipment he's got in here."

Shane smiled and nodded.

Seconds later, a tall man with a mustache appeared from the hallway leading to the back of the building. "Oh! Rita? My goodness, I haven't seen you since the wedding. How are you? How is married life with Norman Dorman?"

"Couldn't be better!" Rita blushed and giggled. "How are you?"

"I can't complain. Staying busy, but that keeps the bills paid." He cut his eyes at Shane then quickly looked back to Rita. "What brings you by?"

"Oh, well, we—" Rita stopped. "I'm sorry. This is my friend and colleague, Shane O'Toole. Shane, this is Morton Horton."

Shane's eyes widened slightly and she tucked in her lips, hoping that her facial expression didn't reveal her amusement. Clearing her throat, she extended her hand as she regained composure. "Nice to meet you, Morton."

"Likewise, Miss O'Toole," he returned, his eyes sending her an unwanted signal that he was overly intrigued.

"Oh! It's _Mrs._ O'Toole," Shane stated firmly but politely, with an exaggerated emphasis on her title. "But Shane will do."

Rita stifled her giggles as Morton's smile faded into a regretful nod of acknowledgement. "Shane is married to our boss, Oliver O'Toole. We're here because we have a digital video file that seems to have been corrupted, and we're wondering if maybe you could take a look at it and see if you can clean it up for us?"

"I will be happy to see what I can do, ladies," he informed them, taking the drive that Shane held out to him. "But it might take some time—a couple of days maybe?" He shrugged his shoulder.

"That's perfectly fine," Shane assured him. "There's no real rush. We would just appreciate any help you could give us."

"I'll look at it this weekend and get back with you sometime early next week. I still have your contact information on file."

"Thank you, Morton!" Rita exclaimed, as she and Shane headed for the exit.

"Anytime, Rita. Tell cousin Norman I said hello."

"I will! Enjoy your weekend!" Rita called over her shoulder.

"You too."

With final goodbyes, the ladies departed the studio and returned to Shane's car. Before starting the ignition, Shane shot Rita a mischievous look.

"I could really use some retail therapy after the week we've had. Remember that baby boutique we saw a couple of blocks back? I'm dying to go take a peek around."

"Oh, that sounds like fun! We should have plenty of time. I bet Norman and Oliver will work right up until five o'clock."

"So do I," Shane agreed. "That is, unless Mia drives them away."

Rita grimaced. "Which is entirely possible. I wonder what excuse they gave for us leaving early today?"

"No clue," Shane replied, starting the engine. "But I'm positive Mia didn't like it one bit. And she'll probably let us know that when we get back to the office next week."

"Well, there's something to make our Monday a little brighter," Rita said sarcastically with a chuckle.

"Oh, Rita," Shane addressed her friend seriously. "I'm afraid I haven't been a very positive influence lately. You always believe the best in people."

"Oh, no. I try to, Shane, but this is just—. I don't know. There are no words to describe how I feel about anyone who wants to sabotage what we have. I'd always imagined the four of us working together until we're old and gray." Rita's eyes became teary. "And now I don't know what we're up against. I can't stand the thought of losing us, of losing the POstables."

"Rita." Shane spoke past a knot forming in her throat, a slight quiver in her voice. "Nothing, and no one, can take away our friendships. And we have to believe that everything else will be okay too. No matter what, we'll still be the POstables. That is forever."

Rita thought for a moment, then smiled softly and nodded. "You're absolutely right. We've made it this far together! We survived Andrea and Glynis. We'll get through this too."

"There's the Rita I know and love." Shane smiled brightly with a satisfied chuckle. "We can focus on work stuff later. Now let's go do some shopping!"

* * *

The boutique was housed within a charming little building, nestled between pristine rows of trees, just outside of downtown Denver. Shane and Rita stepped inside and were immediately impressed with the inventory in front of them. They took their time perusing the store, making mental notes of those special items that caught their eye.

"Oh my goodness!" Rita exclaimed with amazement. "Look at how tiny these booties are."

"Wow..." Shane took the pair of white baby booties from Rita and examined them scrupulously. "I can't imagine being responsible for anyone so little." She blew out a breath. "That's terrifying, actually."

"You'll be just fine, I promise! We both will." Rita smiled confidently at her friend. "This shop is incredible! It's probably a good thing that we don't know the genders yet. I would be trying to buy one of everything."

Shane laughed. "Me too!"

All of a sudden, Shane's smile faded and she ducked behind a shelf, pulling Rita with her.

"What's wrong, Shane?"

Shane lifted her head just far enough above the shelf to take a second glance at the other shopper. "Look who's here," she instructed.

Rita looked toward the front door of the store. Hazel.

"Oh! Let's go say hi!" Rita naively suggested.

Shane grabbed Rita's arm to keep her from drawing attention to them. "We have to have a plan first."

"A plan?" Rita blinked her eyes in confusion. "To talk to Hazel?"

"A plan to hopefully _not_ talk to Hazel. She's very nosy."

"And you think she'll figure something's up because we're in here?"

"I'm afraid so. Maybe we can slip out unnoticed. If not, I'll talk to her," Shane offered, and Rita nodded.

A few seconds later, they attempted to walk out the door discreetly, but as Shane had feared, Hazel spotted them.

"Oh! Shane! Rita! What are you two doing here?" She seemed genuinely happy to see her coworkers, as though weeks instead of hours had passed since their last exchange.

"Oh, hi Hazel!" Shane greeted her, feigning surprise, and Rita chimed in. "Rita and I have a dear friend expecting a baby in a few months, so we're just getting some gift ideas."

"Oh really? Is it anyone I know? Someone at the post—"

"Look at this sweet little dress!" Shane picked up the article of clothing hanging on the rack beside her. "Are you buying for a baby girl, Hazel? This would be a perfect gift."

"Actually, I'm looking for baby boy gifts, but that is adorable." Hazel smiled, her nose wrinkling. "So—"

"Awww, a baby boy. Do you know what his name is going to be?"

"Well, they haven't revealed it yet, but I heard her talking about it a few days ago so I think I know. I didn't ask though—I figured it wasn't my business, you know?" Hazel giggled and Shane nodded, raising her eyebrows, caught off-guard by Hazel's confounding statement. "So, who's having the baby?"

_Uh-oh._

"Yes!" Shane responded. "Who is having the baby?"

Hazel stared at her in confusion. "What?"

"The baby boy?"

"Oh! Well, I'm shopping for my cousin. But I was—"

"Oh, gotta go!" Shane interjected as her phone buzzed with incredibly perfect timing. "Oliver's probably looking for me."

"But I thought Oliver didn't have a—"

"Bye, Hazel!" Shane interrupted for the fourth time. "See you Monday!"

Rita echoed Shane's goodbye, then they hurried out of the store and into the car. Once inside, they exploded with laughter.

"Poor Hazel. You certainly turned the tables on her!" Rita declared.

"I had no choice," Shane replied, defending her actions. "Telling Hazel anything is like putting out a memo to all postal workers and half of Denver."

Rita snorted. "That is true. The timing of the alert on your phone was brilliant. How did you do that?"

"Oh I didn't. I don't even know what that was." Shane pulled her phone from her handbag and took a look. "Just a marketing text. For once, I'm more grateful than annoyed." She chuckled. "We better head back before the boys leave work and file missing person reports on us."

* * *

"I cannot imagine where they could possibly be." Oliver put his hand to his forehead as he paced the floor between the kitchen and living room. He stopped to take a peek out of the front window for signs of Shane's car, then returned to his pacing. "Still no word?"

"Not yet. I tried calling Rita and texting them both." Norman reported. He looked helplessly at his supervisor, who stopped and made eye contact with him. "I'm sure they are fine, Oliver. At least they're together."

"That is a comforting thought, Norman, but I'd prefer confirmation that all is well." Oliver held his head high, his hands clasped together, as he took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. He still wore his suit and tie, his wardrobe a reflection of his current uptight mood.

Norman nodded. "I know. Me too. Maybe they're in an area with weak cell phone service."

"Perhaps," Oliver pondered, then began his pacing once again. "But they were supposed to be here, taking it easy. And I specifically told Shane that she needed to always keep me informed of her whereabouts."

"Maybe she thought she didn't need to, since Rita's with her," Norman reasoned, wondering how to successfully reassure the lead POstable. So far, nothing Norman had said seemed to ease Oliver's mind. "I'm sure they'll be back soon, Oliver."

Oliver paced the floor a few more times, then picked up their landline phone and tried Shane's number again. It rang a few times and went to voicemail for the sixth time. Unlike each of the previous times he had called, he opted not to leave a message.

He placed the receiver back in the cradle with a discouraged sigh. Returning to the front of the house, he looked out of the dining room window once more. A wave of relief finally washed over him as he saw Shane's car turning into the drive, her familiar blond hair shining from behind the steering wheel.

"They're here!" he yelled to Norman, then raced out the door.

Within seconds, he met Shane at the driver's door and opened it before she even had a chance.

"Oliver! What on Earth is wrong?" Shane stepped out of the car, her eyes like saucers.

"For the past half hour, Norman and I have had no idea where you were, and we were unable to reach you by phone." Oliver's nose twitched in distress.

Shane swallowed, preparing to stand her ground. She was well aware that her husband was not happy. "I didn't hear my phone. Rita and I were talking and the radio was on. You know how it is." She took a deep breath, slightly annoyed at Oliver's overzealous behavior. "What are you two doing here anyway? It's not even five yet."

"We finished sorting through yesterday's bins, so I decided to close the office early." His eyes narrowed at her attempt to deflect the conversation.

"And Mia was okay with that?"

"No, she was not." Oliver raised an eyebrow. "I politely reminded that her role in Denver's Dead Letter Office was neither paramount nor permanent—and she departed without even saying goodbye."

"Huh. I see." Still attempting to avoid the proverbial elephant in the room, Shane twisted her lips in both satisfaction and regret. She was bursting with pride that Oliver had put Mia in her place, but there wasn't much Shane wouldn't give to have been there to witness that firsthand...

Rita rounded the car from the passenger side and met Norman on the sidewalk. Sensing that the other couple needed some time alone, the Dormans quietly walked hand in hand to the front door and entered the O'Tooles' home.

"Shane."

"Yes?" she responded tersely, knowing that yet another lecture was inevitable.

"I wanted you to stay at home with Rita and rest until we got here." Oliver's eyes were sharp, the emotions behind them vying with their stunning physical details.

"That's what you wanted?" Shane's voice was calm, but an underlying layer of anger threatened to rise if this fire wasn't put out soon.

"Yes." He spoke sternly.

"And what about what I wanted, Oliver?" Shane raised her eyebrows and they held each other's stare for a couple of seconds.

Oliver scoffed and glanced away, then back at his wife. "As a matter of fact, this is not even about what I want or what you want. It's about what you need. And you needed to stay home until we got here."

"That is your opinion, not mine!" Her voice rose along with her frustration.

"Who knows what could have happened to you, or to Rita? You had no business leaving, especially without—"

"Are you kidding me? Oliver O'Toole, you are completely overreacting."

"Am I? Where did you go?"

"We went to a baby boutique just outside of downtown, but that's irrelevant to this conversation."

"Oh, is it?" One eyebrow rose in true Oliver fashion.

"It certainly is, because it wouldn't matter where we had gone, you would still react this way. Until a few days ago, I never knew you could be this controlling, Oliver. And quite frankly, it's not a good look on you."

"And just what is a good look on me? If I carelessly let you fly halfway around the world without concern for your safety and the safety of our child—is that a good look?"

"That's just it, Oliver!" Shane chuckled dryly. "I'm not flying halfway around the world, and certainly not without your knowledge. I could never do something like that to you. I was only fifteen miles away. And by the way, congratulations on manipulating this discussion so that my whereabouts have become relevant after all." She rolled her eyes.

"I do believe your whereabouts were relevant to the conversation initially, as your presence somewhere out there—and not here—is why we are currently involved in this discourse."

Shane took a deep breath before speaking again, this time through clenched teeth. "I only went downtown."

Oliver swallowed and his blue eyes continued to pierce hers. "Downtown is not exactly the safest place to be either, without me."

"I was never alone or in any danger. I am still capable of doing a lot of things, Oliver, including making wise decisions!"

"This has nothing to do with your capabilities or lack thereof." He raised his brows. "I just need to know where you are at all times."

"Wow. You've already got this dad thing down pat—eight months ahead of schedule." Shane shot him a sarcastic smile. "But you're practicing on the wrong person. All this sounds a bit controlling, don't you think?"

"It sounds smart." Oliver's jaw was set. "You are my responsibility and I—"

"Your responsibility?" Shane narrowed her eyes and glared at him.

"Yes. Well—"

"I am a grown woman and I hate to break it to you, but I am not 'your responsibility'. I can do just fine without your old-fashioned supervision. I love your traditional ways, Oliver, but this is too much."

"Shane, I—"

"Oliver, we have guests waiting inside and all we are doing is spinning in circles out here. Can we please agree to continue this discussion later?"

"On one condition."

"What's that?"

Oliver wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into a hug. She didn't object.

"This." He spoke softly into her ear as he held her. "I want you to know that I do love you. So much that it hurts sometimes—quite often actually."

"I question a lot of things, Oliver, but never that," Shane replied, a small smile forming as she lovingly kissed his cheek. "I love you too."

"That's all we need right now," Oliver assured her, pulling his head back to look at her. "The rest we can work out in time, no matter how long it takes."

She nodded, and he planted a brief but electrifying kiss on his wife's lips. Without any concrete resolutions, they were at peace again. The couple walked into their home together, safe in the knowledge that no matter what, their love was strong enough to conquer anything that ever threatened to tear them apart.


	11. Chapter 11

"When all of this settles, I say we take a week-long vacation somewhere where nobody's mail can find us!" Rita set her fork on her plate and surveyed the others, whose agreement was immediately evident.

"Right now, that sounds heavenly," Shane chimed in, dabbing a napkin at her mouth. "But somehow, I think it would still find a way..."

"Yeah, we're real 'mail magnets' now," Norman remarked, emphasizing the phrase as though it should fill them with pride, and the couples chuckled.

"Rita, I think that is an excellent idea. Once our unfortunate situation has been resolved, I'll submit a request for time off for all of us," Oliver promised.

"Can we do that?" Rita inquired. "I mean, at the same time? If none of us are here, who will operate the DLO?"

"I believe the Dead Letter Office is quite capable of surviving a week or so without us." Oliver grinned at the irony of his statement. "Under normal circumstances, that is."

"We could always get Mia to oversee things while we're away," Shane said with a shrug of her shoulder, chuckling.

Oliver's forehead shifted up as he placed his glass back on the table. "That is certainly not an option. As spiteful as this may sound, Mia's return to Atlanta is a high priority item on my list at the moment," he admitted, although reluctantly.

"We understand, Oliver. I think we're all past ready to return to normal," Rita commented. "How were things in the office this afternoon?"

"Mia was a little salty," Norman responded. "She crossed the line and questioned Oliver's authority, but he set her straight real quick."

"So I heard..." Shane shook her head. "Makes me wish I had been there to hear it all myself."

"If you had been there, you wouldn't have heard it because it wouldn't have happened," Oliver assured her. He hesitated. "Her confrontation was primarily regarding you and Rita."

"Because we left early today," Shane stated, not in the least bit surprised.

"Among other things." Oliver rubbed his forehead.

Shane raised her eyebrows, an inquisitive look on her face as she searched Oliver's. "Such as?"

"Well, she mentioned excessive break time allowance and...well, uh...unprofessional displays of affection." Oliver cleared his throat.

Shane's and Rita's jaws dropped. Silence ensued for a few seconds as they were speechless.

"When I had heard enough, I simply dismissed us from the office for the weekend," Oliver informed them.

"Of all the nerve," Shane muttered. She could feel her blood pressure rising. "I can't believe she would accuse us of mismanaging our time or working relationships!"

"Shane, it's not worth getting yourself worked up over. For one, she's not aware of your conditions and the need for extra break time. With a much larger staff to manage at her branch, they probably enforce stricter policies." He scrunched his face. "As for the other, well, I am not aware of any inappropriate office behavior. Are you, Norman?"

"Noooo, not at all. N-not us. Not Rita and me, anyway." Norman swallowed. "I mean, we have fun at the DLO, but not that much fun." He winced.

"Norman!" Rita shouted, her eyes widening, while the O'Tooles laughed at his response. He shrugged his shoulders.

"The sooner we can make progress with the excess letters, the sooner Mia will return home," Oliver noted, "which is why Norman and I have decided to work some overtime this weekend."

"We'll help you," Shane insisted. "Won't we, Rita?"

"No, you will not," Oliver declared firmly. "Neither of you will be returning to the office until Monday morning, and that's for your own good."

Shane looked to Rita and rolled her eyes. Rita smiled and helplessly shrugged her shoulders.

"Besides, you are currently investigating an undeliverable package, correct?" Oliver's expression conveyed how pleased was to allow Shane to focus on a letter story. He knew it would mean a lot to her, and the way her eyes sparkled at his mention of it proved he had been right.

"Yes!" Shane grinned. "That was a very nice surprise. Rita and I had a hard time believing that Oliver O'Toole would break protocol and have me unknowingly smuggle a package home like that."

"Well, I just—" Oliver began, shifting in his seat, then stopped. "Desperate times call for desperate measures. And we are in quite a unique state of affairs, are we not?"

"I'll say so," Shane responded thoughtfully. "I tell you what, we'll look at the drive again tomorrow in the DLO, while the two of you are working. And that way, we'll be there if you do need our help with anything."

Oliver eyed her momentarily and sighed.

"Oh come on, Oliver. If you let us come to the office with you, you'll know exactly where we are, every single moment!" Shane's rationale dripped with sarcasm.

Oliver narrowed his piercing blue eyes at his wife and scowled. She was as brazenly manipulative now as the day he had met her. It shouldn't—and didn't—surprise him that she would find a way to use his insecurities against him. He had foolishly set himself up for this.

"Fine." His jaw twitched in frustration. "But only for a few hours. I cannot in good conscience allow either of you to work the entire day, especially after the week we've experienced."

"Agreed." Shane looked to Rita. "Of course, I don't mean to speak for you, Rita."

"Oh, it's fine! You know I'll be there, with bells on!" Rita grinned.

Shane giggled. "Yes, Rita, we are well aware of your bells. And I've really missed them this week."

"Oh, did you lose your bells, Rita?" Norman asked, somewhat somberly.

"I think Mia stole them," Shane asserted.

"I don't think she put them on, though..." Rita remarked thoughtfully, and her comment was met with laughter all around.

"I think this," Shane suggested, using her index finger to draw a circle in the air indicating their gathering, "is exactly what Mia needs—a little fun!"

"Perhaps. However, I am afraid she wouldn't be able to overlook our quirkiness," Oliver pointed out, a smile plastered to his face.

"The POstables can be quirky but we sure do have a lot of fun!" Rita exclaimed. "I love us."

"Yeah, she has no idea what she's missing," said Norman. "Maybe we should invite her to the office tomorrow?"

"No!" the other three shouted in unison.

Norman raised his hands in surrender. He nodded, eyes wide as though he had been caught in a misdemeanor.

Amidst the laughter, Shane commented, "I think I probably can speak for Rita when I say that we are extremely appreciative of the takeout dinner. The food was delicious, and this has been a fantastic way to relieve stress and kick off the weekend—just the four of us!"

"Ditto!" Rita agreed.

"Well, you can thank Norman for handling the meal," Oliver informed them.

"Thank you, Norman," Shane graciously told him. "I was starving earlier but in no mood to cook." She cut her eyes at Oliver as if he were to blame.

"You're welcome," Norman replied, then held a finger up. "But Oliver didn't come home empty-handed either."

Oliver grinned. "I most certainly did not. Who would like a piece of lemon custard cake?"

"Oooh, Montaldo's?" Shane's face lit up and Oliver chuckled.

"Yum!" Rita joined in, while Norman nodded and raised his hand.

"It will be served shortly." Oliver stood, smiling at their guests and Shane, then exited the dining room. Shane excused herself and followed him into the kitchen.

A couple of seconds later, Rita whispered to Norman, "Do you think they're okay?"

"Who? Oliver and Shane?"

Rita nodded, looking in the direction they had departed, then back to Norman.

"Oh yeah. They're just adjusting. Oliver might be a little high strung right now, but it's only because he really, really loves Shane."

Rita sighed and smiled half-heartedly.

"Ohhh, Rita." Norman's eyes grew wide. "You know that I really, really love you."

"Oh, Norman, I know that!" Rita assured him with a chuckle.

"And even though I might not show it, I am always concerned about you, especially now." He gave her a lopsided smile.

"That's really sweet, Norman, but there's no reason to worry about me. I'm totally fine!"

Norman leaned in to kiss her, but stopped short, lips puckered, as Rita yawned.

"Just a little sleepy," she admitted.

Norman nodded with a soft smile and kissed her forehead instead.

"It's been a long, eventful week, Rita," Norman stated. "We'll head home after dessert so everyone can rest."

"Here we go!" Shane walked in with two dessert plates, Oliver following with another two. She handed the plates to Norman and Rita. Oliver set their plates on the table, then pulled Shane's chair out for her. She flashed him an appreciative smile as she sat down.

The couples enjoyed a few more minutes of chatting over dessert, then the Dormans went home.

Oliver shut the door and locked it, then turned to Shane, who was standing there in the foyer, arms crossed.

"What...are you doing?" Oliver inquired.

"Oh, just waiting for my instructions." Shane smirked.

"I beg your pardon?" Oliver's eyebrow went up.

"I'm waiting for you to tell me what I should do next."

"Well, I—." He tilted his head, frazzled. "Shane, you're being ridiculous, sweetheart."

"Ridiculous?" She scoffed then retorted, "I'm going to bed because I think that's what I 'need' to do. Does that make you happy?"

"Only if it makes you happy," Oliver replied, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

"Yes. So now we're both happy. At the same time!" She spoke sarcastically again. "That's good. Wouldn't want us to go to bed not happy."

Oliver took a deep breath and swallowed as Shane turned sharply on her heels and marched to their bedroom. He wasn't sure exactly what he had done in the last couple of hours to upset her again. Maybe the peace pact they had made earlier in the evening had already expired. Nevertheless, he was going to have to find ways to care for his independent, expectant wife without constantly insulting her.

He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, took a deep breath, and followed her, vowing to himself to somehow loosen up before his overprotective behavior, coupled with her mood swings, led to drastic repercussions for their marriage.

* * *

**Saturday, June 25, 2022**

"Okay, so we read the note and I transcribed the video, but we haven't looked at the pictures yet." Shane plugged the flash drive into her laptop. "I'm hoping there are enough to give us clues to lead back to Kayla's family."

"Oh, I hope so too," Rita said, sitting down on a stool beside Shane at her makeshift desk. "I want to deliver this package. I'm just not excited about the bad news part."

"I know, Rita. Me either." Shane's expression was grim. "But now I feel like we owe it to them. They need to know that she's gone. And they need closure, no matter what the circumstances were."

Rita nodded. "I totally agree."

"Let's see what we have here. I'm just going to put it in slideshow mode so we can take a quick look at all of them first."

Shane and Rita watched the pictures intently as each one appeared for a couple of seconds before moving on to the next. The majority of the images appeared to be digital, while some seemed as though they were a little older and had been scanned.

There were pictures of a man and woman in their twenties, maybe, and two very young children who appeared to be about the same age—the twins, possibly. In some of the older pictures, an older couple appeared. There were pictures of them playing in the park, going hunting, and attending football games. Other images showed them celebrating special events and holidays such as birthdays, Christmas, and Easter.

Shane knew that they might not be able to piece the whole story together, but she was hopeful that something here would help them find Jack. There would be no point in trying to find Kayla. According to her note and video, the flash drive was to be sent if something happened, which meant that Kayla wouldn't be found.

"How are things coming along in here?" Oliver inquired, entering from the lab. Norman was a few steps behind him. They both wore lab coats over their casual Saturday clothing.

"So far, we've just been taking it all in," Shane said with a sigh. "There are a lot of pictures here. I'm sure when we focus on one at a time, we'll find some more clues in the details."

Oliver nodded.

"How's it going in the lab?" Rita asked.

"Oh! Well, believe it or not, we've sorted everything that was left from yesterday's bins," Norman answered. "We added a few more to the Indecipherable bin, but most of them just need a little technical or chemical attention to make out the addresses."

"Sounds good. We should have this under control in no time!" Shane clapped her hands together.

"Unless we get more bins from Atlanta on Monday." Norman grimaced.

"I don't think that will happen, Norman," Rita reminded him. "We heard Mia put a stop to it."

"Temporarily though, correct?" Oliver pointed out. "Once she sees that we are handling things well, what will happen then?"

The four of them looked solemnly at each other.

"Oliver, we can't continue to play this game with her." Shane spoke solemnly and sincerely. "I want you to promise me that if we get more extra bins on Monday, you'll let Becky know what's going on."

Oliver closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Becky is not going to hold that against you. There are only four of us—well, five at present—and we can't accommodate extra loads from another dead letter office. She has to know what's happening so that she can put a stop to it."

Oliver stared at her, deep in thought.

"Oliver." Shane's voice was firm. "You've got your evaluation coming up too. Wouldn't you rather be scored on how well you handle the office under normal circumstances, with much less stress?"

"That would be ideal," he admitted. "But I don't know if that's possible at this point. Even if Rebecca does stop all new extra shipments and we keep our sorting up to date, we will still have a lot of work to do. The evaluator is going to be aware of our overload immediately when he or she walks into this office. Just look around." They followed his gaze to the bins and bins of sorted mail with partial addresses. "And we can't very well hide all this dead mail, especially with Mia here."

"People use secret rooms to hide dead things all the time," Norman pointed out. The others furrowed their brows at him as he continued. "I mean, I assume they do. Whenever I read or watch a mystery, there's almost always a secret room. And I'm just saying, we have a secret room now! And what good is a secret room, if you don't have any secrets to put in it?"

Rita tilted her head at Norman. "But it's not a secret room anymore, Norman. There's a door...and it's definitely _not_ a secret." She pointed toward the back room and the O'Tooles stifled their laughter.

Oliver smiled at Norman. "I will keep your suggestion in mind. If nothing else, we could utilize part of the lab as temporary storage, so to speak?"

"I might feel better about our progress if I didn't have to see all this every day," Shane confessed.

Oliver nodded. "What about you, Rita?"

"Oh! Well, I think it would be nice to get them out of the way. But I can't unsee them. You know, photographic memory and all." She giggled.

"This must be quite a traumatic experience for you," Oliver dismally noted.

"Oh, well I can think of things much worse than a bunch of mail!" Rita assured him.

"I suppose that's true." Oliver gave a sideways smile. "Norman and I are taking a break for a few minutes. How about catching us up to speed on what you two are working on?"

"Okay!" Shane replied. "Well, there is a document with a short message from Kayla to Jack, several pictures that we just now started looking at for clues, and a video file that won't play properly—it's corrupted."

"My goodness."

"Yes, well, I was able to decipher and transcribe the whole video—I hope it's accurate—but I can't see Kayla or hear her normal voice. Not that any of that matters now, because, well, we're focusing on finding Jack."

Shane clicked a few buttons to get the video rolling and summoned Norman and Oliver closer to her computer.

"See what it's doing? I can make out a figure but can't see much at all."

"Hmmm," Norman responded. "You know, I have this cousin who—"

"Works on videos?" Shane suggested, eyebrows up.

"Yes. Morton! You should take the video to him and see if he can fix it or at least pull something helpful from it."

Shane looked at Rita and bit her lip. Oliver looked at Shane inquisitively.

"We already took it to him," Shane confessed.

"And when did you do that?" Oliver questioned.

"Yesterday afternoon. Right before stopping at the baby boutique."

Oliver nodded tersely.

"But he wasn't able to do anything with it?" Norman asked.

"Well, we don't know just yet," Rita informed them.

Oliver knit his brow. "But you have the drive right here."

"Yes, but this isn't the actual drive," Shane explained. "It's a copy of the original."

"So...Morton has the original?"

"I know what you're thinking, Oliver, but we didn't have much choice. We used our powers of discretion to allow him time to work on the file. And if anything were to happen, we have an exact replica here. So no worries!"

"Except that you have not followed protocol. You allowed someone to handle the item who is not authorized to do so."

"I couldn't very well stay with him and supervise," she reasoned, then muttered, "not in that part of town."

Oliver's eyes grew wide. "When the drive is ready, Norman and I will go pick it up."

"That would be lovely," Shane responded with a smile, pleased that she was able to deflect the conversation without too much fuss. "Now where were we? Oh, yes, I transcribed what I could make out from the video. Rita?"

Rita rattled off the transcript from memory while Oliver and Norman took mental notes. Shane's heart ached as she listened to Kayla's message again.

"Wow," Norman remarked after Rita had spoken the last word.

"Where was it postmarked?" Oliver asked.

"No postmark." Shane showed him the package.

Oliver's forehead creased, his lips pursed.

"A floater!" Norman exclaimed.

"Unfortunately, Norman. That doesn't give us much to go on," Oliver returned, deep in thought. "She said she was working for a government agency in Washington—perhaps the FBI, CIA, or a similar organization."

"Even with our government level of clearance, I doubt I could gather much information from classified agencies like those." Shane sighed and cut her eyes at Oliver. Her forehead rose as her mouth turned inward with hesitancy. "Unless I contact an old acquaintance..."

Oliver's eyes narrowed and a fiery emotion escaped his pupils. "There are probably worse things I could agree to, but at present I cannot think of any."

Shane nodded. "If all else fails..."

"Perhaps, but let's attempt another angle, shall we?" Oliver's stance had become rigid.

"Fayetteville," Norman suggested. "From the wording in Kayla's message, it seems that she and Jack were familiar with the place. Maybe it was not far from their home?"

"Good point, Norman," Oliver praised him. "Rita?"

"There are at least thirteen towns or cities named Fayetteville in the United States—Alabama, Arkansas, Georgia, Illinois, Indiana, Missouri, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Tennessee, Texas, and West Virginia."

"Wow!" Shane placed her cheek in the palm of her hand, her elbow resting on her desk in front of her keyboard.

"Simply remarkable, Rita, as always," Oliver added.

"Oh, well, thank you," Rita replied with a slight chuckle, humbly pushing her glasses up her nose, then admitted, "I did a little research last night. I was hoping the mention of Fayetteville would narrow it down, but that's still a lot of precincts. I mean, I'm assuming she was working for a police department, or maybe a sheriff's division."

"That's what it sounds like to me, too. I can run some searches for her in the official law enforcement personnel records, but it will probably take a while. I have no clue where to start or how far back to look." Shane wore a look of defeat already.

"Shane. I don't want you to stress over this, either. There's no need to rush. And if all else fails, then we can always reach out to Dale." The corners of his lips turned up in amusement as he watched Shane's face twist in mock dismay. Checkmate.

Norman and Rita chuckled at the O'Tooles' exchange.

"Let's just agree to not make contact with any former friends, or foes, for the time being," Oliver continued. "After you've done some research, we'll revisit and revise our strategy as needed, hmmm?"

"Agreed." Shane playfully held out her hand to shake his. Oliver flashed his eyes to the ceiling and back at her with a chuckle. He warmly accepted her hand into his and held it.

"Norman, shall we proceed with our work in the lab?"

"Sure thing," Norman concurred.

"Then shake your wife's hand and let's go." Oliver laughed and covered Shane's hand with both of his. "We'll only work a couple more hours."

"Okay." Rita giggled as she and Norman walked toward the lab and shook hands. "Mr. Dorman."

"We'll touch base after hours, Mrs. Dorman," he whispered, stealing the opportunity to kiss her on the cheek.

Oliver and Shane gazed at each other, at that moment completely unaware that anyone else was in the same room.

"How are you holding up?" Oliver asked his wife, lifting her hand to tenderly kiss it.

"I'm perfectly fine." She smiled.

"Good." Oliver eyed her with adoration, then leaned in close.

"Careful, Mr. O'Toole." Shane licked her lips and wiggled her brows. "This might be perceived as a display of affection."

"Good," he repeated, his cheeks slowly rising with a sultry smile. "I'm willing to take the risk, Mrs. O'Toole."

And for the next few seconds, Shane forgot everything except how it felt to be loved by her section leader.


	12. Chapter 12

"What time is it, Oliver?" Shane called from the master bathroom. She had just showered and dressed and was putting on the final touches of her makeup.

"It's six nineteen," he answered her from their bedroom.

Shane exhaled slowly and smoothed out the pink dress she wore. It was the one she had chosen to wear for their first dinner together at Montaldo's. She didn't wear it often and was pleased that the dress still fit nicely—for now anyway.

She chuckled under her breath, remembering the missteps of that evening a few years prior and marveling at just how far she and Oliver had come since then. Yet so much of the past several days reminded her of that uncomfortable evening, and the overall uneasiness between her and Oliver was still unsettled. They had had a number of argumentative discussions throughout the week, but not one had actually gotten to the heart of the matter at hand. Indeed, they were going round and round in circles.

Deciding to forego a handbag for the evening, she applied another layer of lip gloss. Finally satisfied with her appearance, she smiled at herself in the mirror and stepped into the bedroom.

Oliver was sitting in his chair at the opposite side of the room, reading a book. He looked up as Shane walked in and let out a low whistle. She laughed. Without breaking eye contact, he closed the book, putting it on the table beside him, then stood and silently approached her with a look of intrigue and longing.

"You look exquisite, my dear Shane," he told her, placing his hands at her waist and looking deep into her eyes.

"Thank you, Oliver. I hope the dress doesn't spark any bad memories for you," she commented with a smirk.

"I have always loved this dress. And the only thing I remember now is how much I already loved you then. It took me much too long to express it." He sighed. "I am grateful that you were so patient with me."

Shane placed her hands on his chest and gave him a sultry smile. "You were worth the wait."

He flashed her a grin in return, then a serious expression fell over his face. "Can you be patient with me now?"

"Oh, Oliver," Shane replied, the corners of her eyes misting. "I'm sorry. I've been a complete mess this week."

"Sweetheart, I wasn't asking for an apology," he told her sincerely, placing his right hand on her cheek. "If anything, I owe you one. You've always been independent and more than capable of handling things on your own. I never meant to make you feel like you were anything less."

Shane nodded and licked her lips. "I know. But you look at me a little differently now?"

Oliver opened his mouth slightly for a moment, then closed it for a couple of seconds before answering her. "I do. But not in the way that you might think."

Shane gave him a questioning look as she shifted on her feet.

"Would you...like to sit down for a few minutes before we leave?" He glanced over at the bed and back at her.

"Sure," she replied.

They sat together on the edge of their bed, and Oliver turned to her, taking her hands in his.

"Shane. When I look at you now, I not only see my wife—the intelligent, beautiful woman whom I love with all my heart—but I also see the mother of my child." He gazed at her with adoration and Shane swallowed past a knot in her throat. "I am well aware that you would probably do just fine without me. However...I love you too much to let you try." He chuckled softly. "I want to do my part, but I have not yet determined what that is."

"Oliver." The corners of her mouth turned up slightly as Shane gave him a sly look. She leaned in and whispered, "You've already done your part." She bumped his shoulder with hers playfully and tilted her head.

Oliver nodded as his face twisted in amusement, and they shared a laugh.

"You shouldn't have to go through any of this alone." His smile faded and his words were laced with gravity. "I want—I need—to take good care of you. That's what I promised I would do."

"And you're a little...apprehensive," Shane suggested, one side of her mouth rising with that acknowledgment.

Oliver stared at her for a couple of seconds. "The stakes...are much higher now. If I fail to be the husband you need me to be—if I'm not handling things like I should—and something happens to either of you, I—."

His words dangled in the air as Shane's lips met his. In one meaningful, passionate kiss, she conveyed to him just how much his pure intentions meant to her. He had made it perfectly clear that his overprotectiveness had not been sparked by the need to control her. It was instead fueled by his overwhelming desire to keep her safe and well, and magnified by doubts of his ability to do so.

Shane had always believed that he meant well, but until this moment, she didn't truly understand the immense pressure he had been under for days. Several seconds later, when they had parted, she smiled brightly at him and he took a deep breath.

"Today, when Rita recited Kayla's message, all I could think about is how I've been treating you in an analogous manner, depriving you of your independence. I do not wish to hurt you, or our marriage, by causing resentment." His eyes teared up and he swallowed. "I certainly cannot bear the thought of losing you like Jack lost Kayla."

"I'm not going anywhere, Oliver." Tears began to threaten her eyes as well, her devotion to him unquestionable.

"I do know that. But I never wish to be imperious to such a degree that I propel you away from me emotionally either." The look of grief he exhibited made Shane's heart ache. "Therefore, I would like to make you a promise, that I will work to find balance between too much and too little...but I need you to promise me something as well, Shane."

"As long as it's a promise I can keep, because we O'Tooles don't take our vows lightly." She bunched her lips together in a grin.

Oliver smiled and nodded. "You've always been honest with me, but I request that you be wholly transparent as well. Please don't obscure anything from me, especially if something is wrong. We are in this together."

Shane did not hesitate. "That's reasonable, Oliver."

"Are you certain?" He held his chin up and cut his eyes down at her.

Shane responded firmly. "Yes."

"I believe we have reached an agreement. Shall we shake on it?" Oliver suggested, a teasing tone underlying his words.

"How much time do we have? Because I've got a better idea." Shane narrowed her eyes flirtatiously.

Oliver laughed heartily and pulled his wife close, showering her with one kiss after another.

* * *

"So, I know this week has been a crazy week for you kids and I know it's awfully early, but do you have any grandbaby updates to share with me?" Joe grinned at his son and daughter-in-law, who were sitting side by side across the table from him.

Shane chuckled. "There's not much to tell. We've been so busy this week that I haven't had much of a chance to think about it."

"Ahhh, so no potential names or painting a nursery yet?" Joe's forehead shifted up with hope.

"It's very early, Dad," Oliver replied, laughing. "We don't even know what we're having, and we won't know that for a while."

"That is true," Shane chimed in, "but actually, one of us has already started making a list of possible names." Shane cast a sideways glance at Oliver.

Oliver turned sharply and looked at her in surprise. "When have you had time to do that?"

"Oh, no, Oliver. Not me. I was referring to your list." She took a sip of water and set her glass back down.

"My list." He seemed surprised. "Well, I honestly haven't thought much about names this week. You know, with the excessive mail situation and all."

Shane looked at him incredulously. "Oliver, it's not something to be embarrassed about. I think it's very sweet, actually."

Joe listened quietly, amused by their discussion.

"Oh, I am not embarrassed. I just am not sure what it is you're talking about." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

"Oliver! A couple of days ago, I was searching for coins in your desk drawer at work. I found your list of names—a column of boy names and a column of girl names. It was your handwriting, and most definitely the types of names I would have expected you to pick."

Realization dawned on his face. "Oh, that list! I do remember now. But I didn't do that this week."

Shane looked at him in confusion. "But you didn't even know about the baby more than a week ago."

"That list...was started years ago," he stated, clearing his throat, glancing at her and then at his dad. "It is a running list of names that we have encountered in our DLO investigations that have special meaning or that I simply favored."

Shane pursed her lips. "For what purpose?"

"For the purpose of naming future children," he answered resolutely.

"Ahh, so it is a list of potential baby names. And when you began making the list, was it intended to help you name _your_ future children or _ours_?" She gestured back and forth between them.

"Ours." He didn't bat an eye, then turned to his dad, leaning forward. "See how inquisitive my wife can be?"

Joe laughed. "I bet I can guess her next question."

"Please, by all means." Shane grinned, holding her hand out to her father-in-law, gesturing for him to proceed.

"Do you remember exactly when you began making that list?" Joe suggested.

"Bingo!" Shane answered, giggling.

"Yes," Oliver responded, rolling his eyes at their relentlessness.

When he didn't elaborate further, Shane cut her eyes at him, prompting.

"Oh, well, it was shortly after I purchased a porch swing." He smirked.

"Are you serious?" she replied.

"Do you remember the first names on that list?"

She gasped. "You are serious! Oliver O'Toole, I didn't realize you thought about such things back then."

"You gave me plenty to hope for, Shane." He tilted his head forward slightly, his eyes boring into hers, a sign that he meant what he said when he said it.

She gazed at him with a contented smile. "Well, that list just got even sweeter. And you know, it is a pretty long list."

Oliver grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "We can narrow it down."

"Yes, we can." She gave a single triumphant nod.

"I have to say, this is the best pre-dinner entertainment I have had in quite a while." Joe was grinning from ear to ear. "Sounds like you're living a dream come true, huh, son?"

"Indeed," Oliver affirmed. "It still feels incredibly surreal."

"Just wait until you hold him or her in your arms." Joe told Oliver, then winked at Shane.

Shane licked her lips, her face full of emotion. "That I cannot wait to see."

"Well, one thing is for sure," Joe continued. "The kid's gonna have a lot of people who love him—or her."

"That is true," Oliver agreed.

"I'm sure your mom is excited. And Alex?" Joe questioned.

"Actually, we haven't shared the news with either of them yet." Shane looked a little crestfallen, and Oliver noted her disappointment.

"Oh?" Joe's expression revealed his surprise.

"Shane wants to tell them in person," Oliver explained, "and well, we're not exactly sure when that opportunity will arise."

"Gotcha. Well, as with everything else, trust the timing, right?" Joe suggested, his grin growing a little broader as Oliver sent a cryptic look his way.

* * *

Oliver held Shane's hand as they walked up the front steps to the church. She was dressed in a royal blue knee-length dress with a modest neckline. Oliver's tie matched her attire perfectly and was stunning against his black suit. He briefly surveyed his wife a couple of times as they approached the front door, hoping that she wasn't at all feigning feeling well enough to go to church.

"I promise I'm all good now, Oliver." She spoke under her breath, a smile masking her words, so that only he could hear her. "I haven't forgotten—honesty and transparency."

He grinned with relief at her reassurance.

As they entered the building, Oliver guided Shane through the crowd, his hand at the small of her back. Several of the church members greeted them, letting them know that they were sincerely glad the couple had made it to Sunday morning worship. A few mentioned missing them in Sunday School and having missed Shane the Sunday before. Oliver explained—a handful of times—that the week had been a bit of a rough one, adding that they were pleased to be in attendance today.

Just as they were about to enter the sanctuary to take their seats, an older, gray-haired lady in a bright red dress approached them from behind and caught their attention.

"Good morning, Shane, Oliver!" she spoke excitedly.

"Oh, good morning, Mrs. Lovett." Oliver turned and greeted her as Shane smiled cheerfully. "How are you?"

"I'm doing just wonderful, honey, but I need to ask a favor of you."

Oliver rocked slightly forward on his toes, towering over the petite elderly woman. "Oh?"

"Yes. We are short on nursery volunteers this morning and I could really use your help." Her green eyes sparkled, set with determination.

"Oh, well, I, uh—" Oliver stuttered as he looked to Shane, who was a bit rattled as well.

She cleared her throat tensely. "Well, you know, Oliver sings in the choir. And I'm afraid I don't have much experience with little ones."

"Oh, well, the choir isn't singing today, dear, and I really could use the both of you?" The statement was posed as a question, but the nursery director didn't seem to expect either of them to refuse her request. She looked back and forth between Oliver and Shane, awaiting confirmation.

"I, uh—I'm not sure that I'm qualified myself," Oliver admitted sheepishly.

"Oh, don't you worry about that, honey. You'll do just fine." The spunky lady winked at Oliver and squeezed his forearm. "Remember, God doesn't call the qualified. He qualifies the called! Come along and I'll show you where you're needed."

Mrs. Lovett turned around and rushed down the hall toward the stairs, motioning for them to follow her. Oliver and Shane exchanged glances—his eyes wide and hers looking as though she had seen a ghost—then the couple scurried to catch up with the older, energetic woman.

As they walked down the stairway, Mrs. Lovett kept up the chatter. She certainly was talkative.

"How are you two doing this morning?"

"We're well at the moment, thank you," Oliver answered, unable to forget that Shane had been plagued with nausea all morning. It had finally passed with perfect timing, just before they needed to leave their house.

"I'm so glad I spotted you! I was getting a little desperate. We have three infants down here today and our scheduled volunteers called in sick. I am sorry to take you away from the church service, but I'm beyond grateful for your help. We have speakers so you can listen in. That is, if you can hear it over the crying." She giggled.

"Oh, I think I can hear them now," Shane remarked, doing her best to hide her building angst. With each step toward the nursery, the cries of screaming infants got louder and louder.

"Oh yes—that's definitely them!" The nursery director chuckled again.

As Mrs. Lovett opened the door to the room labeled "Bed Babies", Oliver glanced timidly at Shane and she grimaced. Neither of them were comfortable with the thought of handling babies—someone else's babies—today.

"Jill, I found you some volunteers. The O'Tooles are here to save the day!" Mrs. Lovett announced loudly to a young brunette dressed in hunter green scrubs, bouncing a baby in her arms and patting another one who was lying in a crib. Amazingly, the third infant was sleeping soundly in a swing.

"Oh, fantastic!" Jill spoke slightly louder than normal, greeting them with a pleasant smile. "Good morning!" She glanced down at the fussy baby in her arms. "This one just woke up hungry, and her cries got him started." She looked to the infant in the bed. "It's a domino effect sometimes, but thankfully Hudson over there is choosing to sleep. If I can just get Maggie here fed, then I think that will help."

The O'Tooles surveyed the intimidating scene before them, overwhelmed.

"Mrs. Lovett!" a voice called from the hallway. "We're gonna need some help in the toddlers' room!"

"I'm on my way!" She shook her head and laughed, then turned to the woman still bouncing and patting the babies. "I'll let them know you're coming."

Oliver's eyes widened once again, this time at the implication that he and Shane would be alone in the room with three infants. Shane tucked in her lips and shrugged her shoulders at him.

Mrs. Lovett disappeared from the room and Jill turned to address Shane, still speaking emphatically to ensure that she would be heard over the fussing. "She has a bottle that should be ready now. It's been warming in the sink. Why don't you take her and I'll check on it."

Shane attempted to step forward but instead froze in place, her face becoming pale.

"Oh, my goodness, Shane! Are you okay?" the young woman asked, alarmed, noticing Shane's change in color from a few feet away.

"Shane?" With one quick glance at his wife, Oliver's focus shifted from his own anxious state to genuine concern for her. He swiftly pulled a rocking chair over and guided her to it. "Here, sit down."

Shane wordlessly lowered herself into the chair and Oliver knelt down on one knee to eye her.

"What's wrong, Shane? Are you feeling sick again?" He spoke quietly even though the cries would surely drown out their conversation.

"N-no." She swallowed, finally focusing on his face, then whispered, "I just—I don't think I can do this."

Oliver nodded, then took her hand for a few moments and squeezed it. "I believe you can. Take a deep breath for me." Shane inhaled and blew out a breath.

He gave her a comforting smile and a wink, let go of her hand, and stood up. Jill was now at the sink attempting to check the temperature of the bottle while still bouncing the crying baby girl. Oliver removed his suit jacket, hanging it on an empty hook on the wall, then approached them.

"Is Mrs. O'Toole okay?" Jill asked, concern etched in her facial features.

"She will be," Oliver assured her. "This is new to both of us, actually, so it's a bit overwhelming." Jill smiled knowingly and Oliver looked down briefly at the baby, who was still fussing. "May I?"

"Oh, of course!" She smiled broadly.

Oliver reached out and carefully took the infant, one hand under her diaper and the other at the back of her neck. He held the baby away from his body, securely but somewhat awkwardly at first. In the midst of her cries, she made eye contact with him and began to relax as he spoke softly to her. Slowly, Oliver began to shift the infant so that he was cradling her with one arm, freeing his other.

As he situated Maggie in his arms, Shane watched, a range of emotions coursing through her. The thought of holding someone so tiny truly did terrify her. And she was sure that Oliver had been edgy as well, but any apprehension he felt was no longer evident. He now stood in front of Shane, a smile spreading across his face as he confidently rocked the infant back and forth and continued talking to her. She began to coo instead of fuss.

The view before Shane would have been enough to give her baby fever. Oliver was a natural with a baby—as if he had been handling one for years. She bit her lip, amazed at how easily he had overcome his qualms, wondering how to suppress her own fears.

Oliver looked away from the happy baby, his eyes twinkling as he watched Shane, as though reading her mind. He took a few steps toward her. "If I can do this, I know you certainly can."

Shane smiled feebly, feeling much less tense than before. Oliver had calmly stepped up and taken charge when Shane had felt powerless on her own.

Still smiling, Oliver gently lowered the baby into his wife's arms. Shane's discomfort prevailed at first, but after a minute or so, both she and the baby had relaxed.

"See?" He observed Shane holding the infant, with the realization that in a few months this image before him would become reality, and his heart swelled.

Shane looked up at him and nodded.

"I see her rooting over there," Jill noted with a chuckle, walking toward them. "Here's her bottle." She handed it to Shane, and when she offered it to the baby, she immediately began feeding.

"Maybe you can work your magic with Ryder?" Jill suggested to Oliver, pointing to the baby in the crib whose copycat cries had transformed into faint whines. "He just wants some attention, I believe." She smiled at them, noting how much Shane's demeanor had changed in just a couple of minutes. "I'm going to the toddlers' room next door to check on them, but I'll be back in just a few minutes."

Oliver approached the crib and picked up the baby boy, then carried him to sit down in a rocker near Shane. She finally pried her eyes away from the feeding infant and cast Oliver a grateful smile.

"Well, look at us," Shane remarked, and they chuckled. "You amaze me, Oliver," she told him, "in the very best way possible."

He blushed at her compliment, although they were the only two adults in the room at the moment. Holding the baby at his shoulder, Oliver patted his back as he rocked. "Well, I believe Ramon was right—once we face our fears, they no longer have power over us, no?"

"Yes. No." Shane laughed, shaking her head. "That is true."

"Besides, someone had to step up to the plate while you were in the process of hyperventilating," he teased her, his blue eyes shining.

She made a face at him. "I wasn't hyperventilating. I might have stopped breathing altogether, however."

Oliver cast her a sympathetic smile. "You scared me, Shane."

She sighed. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I was afraid of something so simple as this," she admitted, looking down at the content baby girl in her arms.

"I think sometimes our minds exaggerate situations to make them seem daunting or precarious, when in reality they are not." His eyes connected with hers intimately. "I have been grappling with such misperceptions all week."

"Everything's been on overload this week, Oliver. I know you must be tired." Shane raised her eyebrows with empathy.

He acknowledged her assessment. "A Sunday afternoon nap is quite appealing at the moment." They smiled together at the thought. "I am always thankful for a day of rest, especially after the week we have had."

Shane was expressing her agreement just as the speakers popped and a voice permeated the room. The church service had started. The O'Tooles enjoyed the worship music as they rocked babies back to sleep, then marveled in the timeliness of the sermon entitled, "Too Much to Handle." The message served as an essential reminder to them both that during times of uncertainty and heavy burdens, they should keep looking up.


End file.
